Replay of War
by fayremead
Summary: With the 50th anniversary of D-Day almost at hand, Hogan reunites with former Chief of the German General Staff Karl von Scheider (from "D-Day at Stalag 13"). An "Act of God" flings their souls (plus a third from the other side of the world) back in time to replay the era. Special thanks to Robert Goetz and "Yoda" for their help with translation.
1. Out of the Blue

"Replay of War"

by

Tony Perodeau

PART 1 - Out of the Blue

University of New Orleans, Louisiana

June 4, 1994

The two elderly men who stepped out of the Liberal Arts building each owned a freshly signed copy of _D-Day, June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II_ _._ Robert Hogan, retired as a brigadier general, appeared to be in good shape for early nineties. He was only slightly bent and in no need of a walking aid. Even so, he winced at the flush of heat and humidity which greeted him. His companion and old, old foe was almost a centenarian and looked it - General Karl von Scheider, former Chief of the German General Staff under Adolf Hitler. He carried his copy in the basket of a four-wheel walker, and looked ill immediately upon breathing the outdoor air.

"Insufferable! If I didn't know better I'd blame the damn Russians." Karl shook his head, forced a smile and went on: "Mr. Ambrose doesn't know all. And I don't think you do either, Colonel Hogan."

Hogan saw no sense in uttering a correction - especially when his most important work had been done as a colonel. He said, "How do you mean?"

"Lilli and I reconciled five years ago, soon before she passed."

Hogan tried to keep a poker face but might have raised his eyebrows. Lilli von Scheider had married Karl in 1941 - as a British sleeper agent - until sent back to England with the help of Hogan and his Heroes. At that time, a reconciliation had appeared to be the last thing on her mind.

"She told me all about your operation. My jaw dropped, almost all the way off."

Hogan shrugged. He said, "Time wounds all heels but makes some things safer to say."

"Tell me, who was your Hitler impersonator? Or should I ask, _best_ Hitler impersonator? You had a small group of mimics, didn't you?"

"Yeah, we did." James Kinchloe had impersonated Hitler (on the phone, of course) that day but Hogan thought of the man who'd been about to become a first-class mime by sound _and_ sight. "Andrew Carter, no contest."

"Thank you," von Scheider said with a weary smile. He shuffled to the waiting, air-conditioned limousine. At his speed it might take him a full two minutes to get there. Hogan kept pace with fair ease but felt stiff and achy; he thought this might be his last year of decent ability.

He glanced at the sky. There was still some clean blue to be seen - high humidity didn't necessarily murk the firmament - but the mackerel scales were thicker and merged to lead over the western horizon.

Suddenly his hair stood on end. He smelled ozone. Blue flames like St. Elmo's Fire rose from the metal structure of von Scheider's walker.

Agony crackled as everything disappeared in hot blue-white.

The first thing Hogan noticed was the pain was gone as suddenly as it struck. He smelled damp, faintly sulfurous smoke. He was in the cabin of a small, rough-riding car - a Vauxhall, maybe a '35. He was wearing his dress uniform, the kind you wear when you're meeting - or just met - a top British general. He knew where and when he was - in London, exactly 50 years ago, having just been briefed by said General Ruddy on the way he and his Heroes would support the Overlord invasion of Normandy. He was _en route_ to 388 Battlegroup at Knettishall, where a B-17 Flying Fortress would take him back to Nazi Germany and Stalag 13.

On arrival at the aerodrome, Hogan noticed that the overcast had parted enough to show the moon - hazy, but its waxing gibbous phase was discernible. In two days the moon would be full, the tides would be right, and Overlord would be on.

Hogan marched to the parked B-17, where a stocky man in grimy, glistening mechanic's overalls sketched a salute with an oily hand. He smelled like a refinery.

"Sorry Colonel, we'll have to find you another bus. Motor on this one sprang a leak fit to drown a bull elephant."

"That…" Hogan stopped. His return had gone without a hitch … almost. Just before his jump Number Four had shown a slight rise of oil temperature. Now he could see a pool below that very engine. _How?_

 _Yes, how do I get back to my men?_ There was no time to lose with cover of darkness only briefly available at this time of year. The moon was going down but the sky was not dimming along with it.

Hogan jabbed a finger at another Fortress. "What about that one?"

The B-17 turned out to be ready, and a crew was quickly scrambled. Just before Hogan boarded, pilot Colonel Mallory pulled him aside.

"Just got word from Intelligence - there's a fire of some sort at Hammelburg."

 _What!_ Another new happening. _Has to be a dream._ But everything felt so real, maybe because it _was._

Mallory went on, "Lot of German air patrols at mid-altitude, so we'll go high. You'll jump by an experimental technique: HALO."

"I know: High Altitude, Low Opening."

"How … not even Eisenhower knows."

"Never mind. Time wounds all heels, especially slow ones."

Within an hour the B-17 was cruising at 35,000 feet - above three-fourths of Earth's atmosphere, Hogan knew. Everyone was breathing through oxygen masks. Standing behind Mallory and his co-pilot, Hogan could discern Earth's curvature. The eastern horizon was getting too bright for his liking, although the higher sky and most of the clouds below remained quite dark. Only the anvil top of a cumulonimbus looked pink in the dawn light. Another tangent, Hogan thought, as there had been no such cloud the first time.

To its left, a bright spark cleared the horizon - planet Venus. The sun was only 15 minutes behind, and given that they were speeding east it would rise before that. Already the highest part of the anvil was becoming a bright orange, soon to become an even brighter amber. Despite the cold tendrils which penetrated his heavy flight gear, Hogan sweated. Most of the ground below and sky above still looked dark but wouldn't be so much longer. Hogan peered up.

"See a star?" Mallory asked.

"Yes - Pinto."

"Say again?"

"I mean Vega. Or is it Gremlin?"

Mallory looked as if he'd heard old-hat rather than a joke which was 26 years ahead of time. He said, "Getting close to the drop, Hogan. Switch to your oxygen pack and say your prayers."

Hogan, who had performed a HALO in 1960, was soon ready. But maybe not soon enough.

The sun was rising, its glare starting to overwhelm Venus.

Hogan went to the side opening. Already the sun was white and strong, although it would not rise at ground level for some few minutes more. The cloud cover would add dimness - except, as now, when lightning flashed.

Someone clapped his shoulder, and Hogan leaped.

With so little air resistance he felt like an object being dropped in a vacuum demonstration involving a feather and a cannonball. With his encumbrance, he was the cannonball and then some. The light dimmed rapidly as he plunged among streaming cirrus and boiling cauliflowers. Sharp icy jets of wind penetrated his garments, making his teeth chatter. A bow shock formed in front of him. Hogan pictured himself as a tiny white comet plunging among leaden mammatus.

Brilliant blue lightning flashed around him. With the roaring rush of air he never heard the thunder. Another flash seared his eyes. _Lord, I don't care that You're the Supreme Commander, if You strike me again and I come back in a dirty diaper I'll … cry._

He could feel the air getting thicker. He plunged into a cluster of pea to marble size hailstones. One of them struck his goggles hard enough to star the glass. He spread his limbs widely to slow himself, aware that his crotch was totally unprotected. Soon he noticed that the hailstones were starting to melt.

He saw an orange glow, dim at first but brightening fast. Rubbery smoke seeped around his oxygen mask. He pulled the ripcord. Opening the parachute this soon would lengthen his exposure, but he had to steer away from the fire.

Flames and smoke resolved themselves as he drifted below the cloud base. He could see the burning factory - Hans Speer's ammunition works, which the Heroes had blown up before. Speer was undoubtedly in anguish over this latest calamity. Either the boys had struck again three weeks ahead of schedule, or an accident had happened.

Hogan maneuvered away from the fire and drifted above the built-up part of Hammelburg. In the flickering orange light, he saw swastika banners hanging from every building.

 _Hell_.


	2. Heaven

Karl von Scheider woke to the feel of a perfect bed, the smell of perfume, and the best kind of warmth - woman's warmth. _Heaven._

That thought lasted the better part of a second.

For a hundred, perhaps a thousand thoughts demanded attention. Every period of his life wanted to be in front, from his time under strict parents in Marienwerder (called Kwidzen, damn queer name, after being handed to Poland following the war) through his tough training as a cadet, his service in the Great War, the inter-war upheavals and second Great War, his trial and condemnation at Nuremberg followed by commutation and parole, the post-war recovery as witnessed at his West Berlin home; old age and the pain of great old age.

History had slandered him as a spineless lackey along with his fellows on the German General Staff. That historian in New Orleans had been more honest than most but there were others who had written best-selling, horribly oversimplified books. Some generals were more charming than others but _every_ one on the General Staff had _earned_ his title.

 _When am I?_ The perfume narrowed it to a three-year period, three of the most significant and deadly years in history.

 _Lilli! As a spy!_

 _Gott verdammt,_ if only Hitler had known how outstanding the Allies' intelligence services in general and the Western in particular had been. Facing the West's spies, navies, four-engine bombers, and some of their better soldiers while fighting the sheer brutal horde of the East should never have been allowed.

 _Maybe there's still time!_ The room was dark but a hint of light was visible around the blackout shade. Karl stalked to the window. _Please be spring '41! Before Barbarossa!_

He pushed the shade aside and felt his heart sink.

The gray-blue twilight was bright enough to see, from this villa in north Friedrichschain, clear across to the smokestacks of Prenzlauer Berg. Before late November 1943 these factories had been totally invisible behind trees and fine houses - until American and British airmen in big bomber aircraft elevated their campaign to clear Berlin.

Karl turned back to the bed. He could see the faint gray outline of the sleeping Lilli. It would be so easy to kill her. He was near peak strength and at the _very_ peak of personal influence. With the Nazi justice system such as it was, he could take her life with no consequence, unless you considered the payment of a peace bond a form of consequence.

He took two steps to the bed and realized that his heart would not let him step closer.

He needed to think. Coffee would help (so might tea, but tea made him pee like a beer drunkard). He was of a very small minority in Germany who had regular access to real coffee. Apart from high ranks in the government and military, the only major coffee drinkers or traders were a few well-connected merchants and black marketers … and, thanks to the Red Cross, Western Allied _Kriegsgefangene._

That brought Colonel Hogan to mind … and Hogan's espionage outfit, based in the bowels of a _Stalag-Luft_! He could get _that_ scrubbed in short time, but a small voice in his mind said avoid haste. _Think!_

He put on his slippers and padded to the kitchen.

His first thought, as he waited for the percolator to boil, was to telephone his adjutant Colonel Dietmar "Tiny" Portmann. He rejected that almost at once - Lilli's ears were keen. He would go to Tiny's home, drag him out of bed if need be (he didn't care that Tiny weighed almost 100 kilos) and call from there.

As he went to his Mercedes, a dog barked savagely. Although it was unseen behind a hedge, Karl knew that it was the Rottweiler of his neighbour Eggert Alzen. The bald, red-faced Alzen was a deputy of Goebbels and had a well-founded reputation as a hard drinker and even harder family man. He crashed open his door; the noise could have been heard across a good two blocks even with an air raid on, and Karl knew that Alzen's voice carried even farther.

 _"König, schließen Sie das Bumsen!"_ Quickly followed by the meaty sound of a hard kick, and a series of yelps. The door slammed again. The dog growled.

There was a brutalized beast, Karl thought, sure to make trouble if it was allowed to roam. In less than five months other, two-legged beasts would start to roam German soil - unless history could be changed.

Karl started the car. He would go to Tiny and let him arrange an alternate destination for the General Staff. Karl had not yet decided on his response to the coming invasion of Normandy or the ongoing espionage at Stalag 13, but neither was anywhere near the top of his worry list. He sensed his hair going grayer by the minute as he thought of what would start over East in two and a half weeks.

He had spotted a big weakness of Ambrose's book right in its title. Western forces had certainly been party to many major events fit to spill rivers of blood, but none could be called climactic. The East was where blood had flowed ... _was flowing_ ... like the Vistula, Danube or Oder in flood.

Coming in 18 days ... a prelude to the rape of East Prussia, then the rape of Berlin and the vast part of Germany around her.

 _Bagration_.


	3. Hogan Bluffs

Hogan was coming down farther away from camp than he had the first time. He would need a fast car to arrive before Schultz noticed his absence. Near the burning factory he saw a cluster of cars and men - obviously the fire department's command post. He steered the 'chute and landed a little over a block away.

" _Nicht bewegen_!" yelled a hoarse voice. " _Hände hoch_!" Footfalls approached from behind. A short stocky man with thick red hair, long-handled mustache, heavy eyebrows and a Sauer 38H pistol in each hand scurried in front. Hogan might have thought he was trying to be a live version of Yosemite Sam except that the character probably hadn't been created yet and in any case his cartoons wouldn't be available to most European audiences.

"An enemy spy! I should shoot…"

"Colonel Klaus von Hoganhoff, on a secret state mission."

"Liar! Prepare to…"

"Do we have to see Major Hochstetter!"

The man went pale. " _N-nein, Herr Oberst,_ we don't have to see him whose name must not be spoken."

" _Your_ name must. Well?"

"Uwe Schmidt, _Herr Oberst_."

"Resume your patrol, Schmidt, and never have more than one gun out at a time."

 _"Jawohl, Herr Oberst."_ Schmidt turned and marched away.

Hogan bundled the parachute, stuffed it in an ashcan, and ran to the command area by the gates to _Speerwerke._ Most of the cars there were fitted with wood gas generators and wouldn't be fast. The only two without generators were the fire chief's Opel Kapitän and a big maroon Peugeot 402.

"Hey! I'm Colonel Hoganhoff, _Luftwaffe_. Hogan thumped the Peugeot. "I need this car, and a driver!"

A slender young man, if he was old enough for the term, approached somewhat hesitantly and raised his right hand as if he was about to swear an oath. He was soaked and shivering. The fire was winding down and some of the other men also looked idle. They were not as wet as the youth but looked eager to be dry and warm.

"Your name, boy?"

"Otto Jung, _Herr Oberst_. I'm Chief Jung's son."

"Fine, son. You will take me to Stalag 13."

Jung drove none too well, lugging the engine with every gearshift. Hogan winced, but inside he was glad for the pretext to take the car himself.

"Stop! You don't know the first thing about driving and besides this car is too fine for a runt like you. How'd you get it?"

"My brother in the _Heer_ got it in Paris back in '40, Sir. Then after he got his legs blown off at Vitebsk two months ago he gave it to me, Sir."

"It's not yours any more. I shall drive to the Stalag 13 motor pool where the clutch you ruined will be replaced. Then this vehicle will be requisitioned for the war effort. Now get out of my sight!"

He felt sorry for the sniffling youth and sorrier for the crippled brother. A half-century of postwar life had softened him, he supposed. But he was back in the all-time deadliest human conflict which was very near its climax. Millions of people across Europe were already suffering much worse than Otto Jung.

Hogan put the car in gear ... and lugged the engine himself. Too many years of automatics!

Getting the car into camp ... Hogan decided to chance it with the gates. Through early June the morning gate guard was Corporal Bartold "Bat" Fauner, about sixty, who would in mid-month get a medical discharge due to weakening eyesight (Hogan had yet to hear the term at the time, but now suspected macular degeneration). A better commandant than Klink would already have taken him off duty.

But a better commandant had _not_ taken over from Klink. Bat squinted at Hogan's fake ID, then at Hogan himself. He frowned.

"You look so much like..."

Hogan felt his ears go hot. _Oh boy, don't underestimate the enemy._ Time to drum up the charm again.

" _You_ will have Ivan in your sights, or should I say a thousand Ivans, unless you let me through promptly. This car is a present for one of your camp officers. Move!"

Shaking as if he was already experiencing a Siberian season other than summer, Bat opened the gate and waved Hogan through. In the mirror Hogan saw Bat's lips move; the man was uttering a well-known phrase.

 _Ich sehe nichts._

The garage had no one on duty, as Hogan expected. He parked the car inside, entered the tunnel connection, and shed his disguise. Soon he was at the portal to his home barracks.

Hogan stepped into the barracks and made sure that the bunk closed before Schultz entered. There would be no "I see nothing" from him this time. As before, Schultz was wearing white gloves, and as before he warned that prisoners would be shot if they strayed out of barracks.

After Schultz left, Hogan told his men that the German General Staff would arrive in less than an hour, but as he spoke the image of St. Elmo's Fire on von Scheider's walker played in his mind's eye. He couldn't let that delay the hoax. Klink would have to believe that he would be promoted to Chief of the German General Staff. Hogan went ahead and told the boys that the mission involved D-Day and psychological warfare, forestalling Carter this time.

As before, Newkirk and Kinch started the hoax by phone. Hogan went to Klink's office to watch his reaction. Exactly like the first time, Klink fell for Hogan's congratulatory handshake, just for a second or two, after being told by "Hitler" that he was on the Most Incompetent Colonel nomination list.

Unlike the first time, the hour passed … and another … and neither von Scheider nor any other member of the General Staff arrived.

St. Elmo's Fire burned bright in Hogan's mind, so bright that Newkirk noticed.

"You all right, Colonel? You're white as a sheet."

"Fox alert," Hogan said. He repeated it for all to hear. "You know the drill. Make like it's not a drill but don't destroy anything until I tell you."

His heart raced at the thought of von Scheider also replaying. He expected company, and lots of it.

He went to the radio and contacted London. After informing Papa Bear that von Scheider and his staff were no-shows, Hogan talked about a certain landing zone, the one which had been most troublesome. He almost said "Omaha" but stopped himself just in time and used known place names instead. He especially urged Papa Bear to pass word of how dangerous the Vierville area was.

He noticed that Kinch was hovering close by, still looking cool but undoubtedly nervous inside. A prolonged radio transmission would increase the risk of detection, but this might be the only chance for Hogan's first-time knowledge to do good.


	4. Worry Compass

The German General Staff met for breakfast in a conference room at the Hotel Adlon just before 7:30. Karl von Scheider mopped sweat from his forehead and turned to the attending generals - Bernhart Bruner and Hans von Katz. Tiny was close by. Male aides stood and chatted in a small group, occasionally glancing at the three female secretaries who talked to each other a few meters away. Everyone was waiting for coffee and appetizers.

A middle-aged man in waiter's uniform stepped almost shyly to the generals and looked at Karl.

"Herr General, I beg your pardon but no coffee is available this morning."

"The Adlon has been reliable for coffee up to now. What happened?"

"A small fire, electrical. What coffee didn't get burned was ruined by smoke and water."

"Damn! You'd think drunk Soviets were already here." Karl knew that no bomb would demolish the Adlon. With vodka-swilling pyromaniacs from the East no bomb would be needed.

"The kitchen is otherwise fine and appetizers will come soon, followed by breakfast."

"Thank you," Karl said absently. Here was a departure from his first time. A disturbing thought entered his mind: the knowledge of his 99 years might be gold now but turn to silver, bronze and finally lead as this second world around him diverged from the first. And maybe the Adlon wouldn't be that safe over the next ten months.

A few more aides were supposed to come but Karl decided not to wait.

"Gentlemen and ladies, your undivided attention is essential this morning. Germany has entered her watershed time. The outcome of momentous events to come very soon will decide whether or not Germany remains free of foreign troops."

"First to come, but not first priority, is the invasion of France. Rommel wants troops to hurry to the shoreline when our enemies land. Von Rundstedt favours keeping mobile reserves in place until we are sure of where the main strike will be."

Karl felt his gorge rise. He didn't want any more enemy troops in Fortress Europa, but the Western Allies had proven themselves much the lesser evil. With Rommel's way some or with extreme good luck all of the enemy bridgeheads at Normandy might fail. What then? Enemy airpower, restive Frenchmen and other coasts to watch. Many American soldiers would take a Mediterranean cruise in August anyway, and not for fun. In Italy the front would continue its slow advance. The West, although thorny, would be weaker. The East would _not_.

The prospect of Normandy landings succeeding again was unpalatable but a better alternative to the poison of bear dung which would cover more of Germany, or perhaps all, with a weakened Western alliance.

"I support von Rundstedt's plan. He may be a cranky old fart…"

There were scattered, nervous chuckles. Karl had never used vulgar language at a meeting. But von Rundstedt would be quite a scold on July 1. _Make peace, you fools, what else can you do?_

"…but his plan is best. There may be some, perhaps many landings at Normandy, but the main force will come to Pas de Calais. Remember our great E-boat victory last April 28."

Two ships sunk and some 800 sailors killed, although few Americans would know about it any time soon. For those few who _did_ know…

"The longer the distance of water to be crossed, the more the enemy commander chews his nails. Pas de Calais it shall be, people."

"Now to the opposite side of the compass, the much more critical side…"

Before he could go on, busboys arrived with sumptuous trays of breakfast: eggs, sausage, fish, cheese, bakery products, jam, marmalade and honey. The Adlon was still a place where one could, with at least some of its kitchen output, go back in time to the pre-ersatz era.

 _Food._

Karl suddenly found himself thinking of the immediate postwar era, when food would be scarce. German civilians would suffer, and imprisoned soldiers too. The Americans would have so many prisoners to manage that they would wash their hands of the Geneva Convention by declaring their captives Disarmed Enemy Combatants rather than Prisoners of War. Many, many a good German soldier would die little more than skin and bone in an American concentration camp.

Perhaps something could be done, starting today. Keeping Atlantic and Mediterranean ports intact or at least in condition to be quickly repaired would definitely be in a better future interest for Germany.

"People, listen to me. You may disregard the usual etiquette because important work must begin almost at once. You have fifteen minutes to eat." Karl turned to his aide. "Tiny, you are to arrange a plane to Cherbourg where we will speak to the garrison commander. Go now, you can afford to skip a meal." Karl could see an unenthusiastic _Ja, Herr General_ coming. He added, "Trudi Langer will accompany us to Cherbourg."

"Langer is passable but..."

"My dear Tiny, have you noticed that Trudi Langer looks like she stepped out of a Rubens masterwork?"

 _"Jawohl, Herr General!"_ Tiny marched out of the room.

Karl felt his head rock. It was not a true dizzy spell but too close for comfort. Such were the wild swings of his worry compass.

Three men, two of them majors and the other a captain, entered the conference room. Karl said, "Gentlemen, you're late! To the Russian Front with you!"

The stockier major, Heintzelmann, smiled faintly, undoubtedly thinking this was a joke. The other two were blank-faced except for their wide eyes.

"Not as punishment but necessity."

Heintzelmann took his turn of being wide-eyed.

"In two weeks," Karl said, "the Soviet Union will launch its greatest offensive so far. Not in the south, as our intelligence has been led to believe up to now, but in the center. They have such force of numbers with such improved weapons that the possibility of Army Group Center being shattered is high. To minimize this likelihood, communications between various branches of the armed services must improve. Captain Metzler, you are to achieve that goal."

After Metzler acknowledged the order, Karl went on. "Major Reize, you just became a train robber."

Laughter, light with nervousness, showered the room. Karl guessed what everyone was thinking: he wasn't himself. _I'm more than myself._

 _"Herr General?"_ Reize said, blushing.

"There is too much rolling stock at purposes that do not aid our fighting forces. This has especially being going on since 1942. Commandeer more trains and if their cars have crowds of people who are without the usual comforts…"

Several men laughed knowingly.

"…throw them out and let them fend for themselves."

" _Reichsführer_ Himmler won't allow this," Reize said.

"Let others worry about the _Reichsführer._ Get those trains in service of the _Wehrmacht."_

 _"_ Any _Gauleiter_ and _Reichskommissar_ in an area where we take trains will also complain," Heintzelmann said.

"There's your job," Karl said. "Fielding the complaints. Negotiating with the leaders, right up to the _Reichsführer."_

General Bruner said, "My dear Karl, you seem to be going beyond the purpose of the General Staff. To analzye the orders of the _Führer,_ advise him, let him make any changes or new orders, then relay _his_ orders to the military. We cannot take our own initiative."

"At the highest level of emergency which exists now, we can and must. Everything I've told you this morning will if promptly implemented uphold orders which the _Führer_ has issued over the years. Now, gentlemen, you have your work and I have business in Cherbourg."


	5. Klink's Sloppy Toast

The rest of the morning at Stalag 13 was quiet. By noon Hogan was convinced that von Scheider would not destroy his operation - at least, not quickly. With Klink expecting more word from Hitler as a result of Kinch's earlier impersonation, Hogan told Kinch to have another go. As before, he went to Klink's office to watch the reaction.

To Hogan, Kinch's voice was tinny but discernible: "Klink, my earlier call to you was a test. You passed at the top of the class. Congrartulations!"

"Top of the class! _Vielen Dank, mein Führer!"_ Klink bobbed and grinned like a prize-winning kindergartener. If a man could grin from ear to ear, Klink would have gone beyond that and grinned his ears off. He went on, " _Mein Führer,_ does this mean I'll be promoted to General? _"_

"I shall speak to Göring and send a promotion recommendation to be forwarded through the regular channels."

 _"Mein Führer,_ I beg your indulgence … please promote me … now, _mein Führer?"_ Klink's grin looked stiff, like what you might see on a novice clown in a room full of rude kids.

"DON'T PUSH YOUR LUCK, KLINK!"

Klink's grin went "poof" and he almost dropped the handset.

Kinch went on, "Focus on maintaining your perfect no-escape record. If one man ever escapes, you will be sent far east of here where they have their own escape-proof camps."

" _Ja_ , _mein Führer … I mean…"_

 _"_ That is all, Corporal Klink _."_

Klink's face went white and his jaw dropped.

"I mean Colonel Klink. For now."

 _"Jawohl, mein Führer."_ Klink saluted Nazi-style.

Kinch clicked off. Klink's novice-clown grin returned.

"Colonel Hogan, that was the _Führer_! I may be promoted to General!"

"Congratulations, Sir!"

Klink went to a tray across the room and reached for the brandy decanter with a shaking hand. "This calls for a toast. Will you join me, Colonel Hogan?"

"Certainly, Sir."

When they were ready to touch glasses Hogan said, "To your demotion, Corporal Klink."

The two glasses chimed on contact and a grinning Klink drank some of his share. Then his eyes widened and he spluttered. Brandy dribbled down his chin, dripping on his uniform.

"Hogaaan … OUT!"

Hogan grinned as he walked back to the barracks. In this setting you had to soak up the fun like sunshine when it came.

He could still smell smoke from the Speer factory. He didn't think his men had lit it - someone would have bragged - but he decided to question Carter and Newkirk in his office.

"Wasn't us," Carter said. "Someone must've smoked where he shouldn't have."

"Or dropped a bomb," Newkirk added.

"Handle like eggs," Hogan replied, remembering the H-bombs in _Thunderball._ He flicked his head, telling himself that it wasn't wise to think 21 years ahead when there was D-Day to survive.


	6. Thunderbolt and Lightfoot

Anxiety was quite a monkey, Karl thought as he flew over France in a Junkers Ju90 (one of Germany's few four-engine aircraft). He was "going" for the fifth time, wincing at the turbulence which was enough to slosh the contents below his seat. With the great knowledge from his first life there was terrible responsibility, the monkey kept reminding him.

In addition to his trots he felt constant nausea and occasional sharp cramps, although he hadn't thrown up even with the turbulence. If he did anything more than sip water, the monkey kept telling him, he _would_ have an accident on his General's uniform.

So he sat on the throne, eyebrows furrowed, sighing, until his guts told him they'd done enough - for now. He reminded himself that he'd been much worse with dysentery in the fetid trenches of the Great War. As a captain he had access to an officer's latrine, and he'd been relieved from front-line duty after a few days. Enlisted men, equally sick, had been forced to stay and fight on even as they soiled themselves.

The France of early June 1944 had no ground warfare just yet and remained (mostly) in peace and good order as had characterized the German occupation for almost exactly four years. Enemy aircraft activity had been more intense near the coast lately, especially around Pas de Calais. Any vehicles moving by day were at risk of being strafed.

With a knock on the lavatory door, Tiny said that Paris was near. Karl felt the Ju90 begin its descent.

He and his entourage would stay in Paris until evening and drive to Cherbourg once it got dark. Tiny wanted him to see a doctor but Karl assured him with a most knowing tone that he would not need medical care for many more years. He was tempted to add _at least 50 before I need an undertaker._

Jack "Bugs" Cole had the best night vision of any pilot in his squadron. Part of it was due to the dilation of his pupils. At a shade over 8mm maximum it had yet to reduce with age. Doctors also speculated that the cells in his retina were structured more like those of a night beast. He was as comfortable under a full moon as he was in daylight.

At 2335 he was flying his P-47 Thunderbolt on patrol near Cherbourg when he spotted a single car about five miles outside the city. He was at a perfect combination of altitude and distance to begin a strafe. He dove, sighted, and fired.

Everything worked. Dust erupted around the car; sparks _on_ it _._ Pieces flew off. The car veered into a hedgerow. A plume rose - steam or smoke or likely both. _Definite kill!_ Bugs, aware that he was near his lowest safe altitude, broke off. He glanced at his instruments again, focusing on not just the altimeter this time, and decided he'd done enough. The P-47 was great but boy did it drink like troops after combat.

Karl woke in a hospital bed. His ears buzzed. The room spun when he tried to sit up, and a sharp pain in his belly reminded him of the volcanic agony there which had erupted when everything in the car seemed to disintegrate, including human flesh. He remembered screaming and not being able to stop. He remembered being in a moving vehicle, ambulance or plane, with his points of agony with him but not _in_ him any more _;_ he'd asked the medic for a deck of cards to offer his pains a game of _Doppelkopf._

He had an intravenous feed in one arm, another tube in one nostril, and a third tube connected to his belly _._ Close by was a cord. Just reaching for it made him dizzy again, but he grasped it and pulled. All he could hear were soft footfalls and conversation from the hall. He sensed that this building was rather crowded, although he could see no one else in the room.

After quite some time a mature but trim blond woman and a lean, black-haired man entered. The man said, "Welcome back, _Herr General._ With me is head nurse Major Lorelei Switzer and I'm Captain Benno Durchstechen, your surgeon. We're at Cochin Hospital."

"In Paris?"

" _Ja_ , _Herr General._ You're late in your second day here. How do you feel?"

"I ache everywhere, especially in my belly. And I'm so tired."

"You've been fighting for your life, and you're starting to win. Hopefully the third operation from which you're waking will be the last."

Karl felt tingles all over. "Two days, you said. So this is the sixth?"

"Of December, yes." The doctor looked and sounded utterly deadpan.

"What! It's supposed to be June."

"Correction, it _is_ June."

"Captain, please save your humour for someone else. What of the other people in my car? Sergeant Moos, my driver? Colonel Portmann? Trudi Langer?"

"Your sergeant is deceased."

Karl shook his head. He'd urged Moos to step on the gas, but the man had said he was trying to conserve petrol and "good German _Buna_."

"Your other companions needed stitches but have no major injury," Durchstechin added. "Colonel Portmann is anxious to see you."

"Well, send him in! Come on, you can test me later." He realized that Switzer had put an arm cuff on without him noticing although he was sure feeling the pressure as she pumped. After a minute or so Switzer assured Karl that his vital signs were good and his fever was minimal.

"Fine," Karl said. "Colonel Portmann's nickname is Tiny, and tiny medicine will be the best for me right now."

Tiny's face was a rainbow of bruises and his left eye was swollen shut. He carried a folder. Once Durchstechin and Switzer went out, he sat beside Karl.

"Skip all pleasantries, Tiny. First thing to tell me: how active is the coast?"

"Very. They started coming before dawn today and are still arriving by the thousands."

"Where?" _As if I didn't know_.

"Cotentin Peninsula at Varreville extending east along the shore to just beyond the mouth of the Dives River."

 _Normandy, like before._ Karl pointed to the folder. "Are those situation reports you're carrying? If so, let me see them."

Karl studied the reports, which were arranged in order of increasing distance from Cherbourg. It seemed that the sector code-named "Utah" by the enemy was in much the same state as the first time.

"Omaha" was another matter. What jumped to Karl's eye was that the Americans had lost far fewer tanks this time, and taken more ground.

"Hogan!" Karl barked.

"Who's this Hogan, Herr General?" Tiny asked.

"Man I met in another age," Karl replied sincerely. "A real thorn, so once in a while I swear on his name." Again he thought of calling for a raid on Stalag 13, but such an impulse while he was sick and drugged had to stay checked. Hogan was doing his job, and for all Karl knew he had already saved more of his countrymen than over his combined operations the first time. Besides, there might be a way to keep him busy without letting him harm German interests.

He skimmed the remaining reports, concentrating on the actions of the 21st Panzer Division. If only he could have persuaded Hitler to let his SS support Feuchtinger's tanks. But the 21st had done as well as before, securing Caen and driving a wedge between British and Canadian forces. Karl read the reports again and saw no evidence that Hogan had influenced any operations other than "Omaha." That made sense: Hogan had achieved maximum results while minimizing his risk of detection.

He felt drowsy, and his vision began to double. He shook his head but the urge to sleep stayed with him. He offered little resistance as a gentle Tiny gathered the reports.

 _Hogan, I know where you are, now what are you doing?_


	7. For the Birds

At Stalag 13, the evening roll call held no surprise. Sergeant Schultz verified that all prisoners were present. Colonel Klink - all crisp uniform and shiny black boots - stepped beside his gleaming Mercedes.

"My dear prisoners," Klink said with his death's head grin, "today thousands of your countrymen trespassed on Fortress Europa soil. They came by sea and air like swarms of locusts, and our illustrious forces are exterminating them as such. Of course there will be some survivors, and very soon you can expect a few of your fellow airmen to come here as guests of the glorious _Luftwaffe._ "

A flock of starlings swooped low over Klink and his car. The _Kommandant_ cringed.

A grinning LeBeau leaned to Hogan and said, "The other car is safe, _merci beaucoup_."

Hogan winked, knowing that LeBeau was thrilled to have the Peugeot as a project. The car's original registration papers had been lost, but its serial number had been sent to underground channels. LeBeau and several of Hogan's men had dismantled the car and hidden its parts in the tunnels. If enough went well, LeBeau would drive the reassembled Peugeot to its rightful owner.

The starlings turned for another pass. Klink shouted, "Schultz, I want you and your men to shoot these birds in a display of superior German marksmanship!"

The compound resonated with superior western razzberries.

Starlings flew past Klink and headed to the main gate. Schultz said, "Don't shoot, you'll hit our fellows."

"That's tellin' 'em, Schultzie!" Newkirk called.

"Silence!" Klink yelled. "Sergeant Schultz, you will shoot birds as I direct."

"I beg your pardon, _Herr Kommandant_ , it is too late. I will organize a detail to wash your car, and if I may, _Herr Kommandant_ , I will clean your hat myself."

"Clean everything _spotless_!" The scowling Klink turned to face Hogan. "Dis-miss!" he barked with an iron salute.

Hogan spent the rest of D-Day evening with his ear on German broadcasts, paying special attention to General Dittmar (Germany's top military spokesman). At 10 PM, Dittmar announced that American penetrations had been checked along the Aure River except for a bridgehead at Isigny, now contained (Hogan couldn't help but smile). An attempt to capture Trévières had been repulsed.

Even this last didn't erase Hogan's smile. Trévières was being invested a good three days ahead of the first time, and Isigny had been liberated two days ahead. It was beginning to look like the 29th Division might get more glory than the neighbouring 1st (Big Red One) - which itself was doing well, having taken most of its D-Day objectives although the easternmost penetration was "sealed off" between Tour-en-Bessin and Ste-Anne (still, Tour-en-Bessin had changed hands two days "ahead").

The other fronts didn't seem any different from the first time. Shortly after midnight Hogan switched off and turned in, downing two fingers' warmth of brandy. One side had seen a much better day than the other.


	8. The Lackey's Visit

At lunchtime on June 7, sausage and potato smells wafted in from the hall as food trays rumbled past. Karl closed his eyes, wondering when he would be able to take food by mouth. He opened his eyes again and looked at his visitor - narrow-faced, jug-eared General Rudolf Schmundt, Hitler's _Wehrmacht_ adjutant. In Karl's first round, Hitler had sent Schmundt to Stalag 13 after the hoax had run its course. Schmundt had interrogated Karl for half an hour before escorting him to Berchtesgaden. There, Hitler had fired Karl and threatened him with court-martial. That never happened, but Karl was out of the war.

Here was Karl's second chance.

Schmundt, like before, quickly got to business.

"My dear von Scheider, _der Führer_ is greatly concerned of your well-being. Not only physically, but also mentally. People tell me you're a changed man, almost a stranger. And almost dead, on foreign soil!"

"Yes, I was afraid I would die. Now I'm afraid I will _not_ die."

Schmundt nodded, looking sympathetic. "The doctor told me you had more than a few scratches."

"My pipes resected in five places and half a meter gone, that feels like just a few."

"One question, then: Why did you wander?"

"I've had dreams. Premonitions of action on both sides of Europe, the West first. That's why I wanted to see the coastal commanders in person, starting with Dollmann and von Schlieben. I would have gone East soon after, to Army Group Center. _That_ will take the brunt of Stalin's offensive, not the South."

"I see."

 _Sie nicht sehen!_ Karl almost blasted that aloud, which would have been a mistake. He said, "Please tell _der Führer_ to authorize tactical withdrawls along the Eastern Front. The center must hold together."

"I'll take that under advisement."

"Thank you." _Lakai!_


	9. Buttering Up the Sergeant of the Guard

Schultz was surrounded by cheerful prisoners as he tracked the smell of good cooking to its usual source: _Barracke 2._ Red Cross packages had arrived that morning and, together with news of the Normandy bridgehead, brought the greatest joy he had ever seen among the captives.

Immediately on Schultz's entry LeBeau said, "Check your watches _mes amis,_ Schultzie's right on time." He offered Schultz a tray of butter croissants and sausage rolls.

"Cockroach, you shouldn't tempt me." Schultz turned about 90 degrees, only to turn back to the food. "I can't face away from these delights!"

"It's that compass you swallowed."

"Ja, and I'm still hungry!" Schultz grabbed two sausage rolls with his left hand and a big croissant with his right. He wolfed the rolls first, then devoured the croissant and immediately reached for another.

"Watch your greed, Schultzie. That's Canadian butter, which has a dear price on their home front."

Hogan, watching from the doorway to his office, grinned like everyone else. Seeing morale at an all time high was a tonic - although his mind's voice reminded him that Red Cross deliveries would become irregular after June ... or during _this_ June _._ Bitterness would return. There would be many more dangerous missions.


	10. Sleepless in France

Karl stood by the window in his third-floor room of Cochin Hospital. He could see blacked-out Paris in dim gray dawn twilight. He heard his rumbling belly and winced at his continuing aches. He had refused pain medication this night; he didn't want to become an addict like Göring. It was June 13, exactly one week since D-Day.

He heard footsteps at the door - very soft, but discernible as Tiny's shoes.

"Come," Karl said without turning.

"Smells like you had an accident."

"That's not to be mentioned outside this room. My insides have regained activity ... now, what of outside action?"

"Heaviest fighting at Graignes."

"We still haven't recaptured it?" In Karl's first time, the SS had accomplished recapture on the 11th.

"No. Too many tanks."

 _Thank you Colonel Hogan!_ "Air support too, once the sun comes up ... and I wouldn't be surprised if there's the odd aerial attack right now."

Bugs Cole had just finished a strafing run between Graignes and Le Dézert when he saw the muzzle flash of a Tiger tank. The front end of his P-47 erupted, _SPLANG_ , and his canopy shattered on impact from a large metal piece - a propeller blade. He shut down the engine and banked away from the road. He was too low to bail out.

His plane glided over a field and belly-landed just short of a new-looking hedgerow. The heavy aircraft scraped a furrow of earth, then struck the bushes and crackled through. Its nose hit a truck, flipping it over. The right wing smashed a tent. Men scattered, running. The P-47 stopped, blocking a road.

Bugs climbed out, smelling potatoes and sauerkraut. He'd wrecked a field kitchen, and not on his side. The men in their coal-scuttle helmets were hurrying back, firearms ready. A sergeant with the slender build and speed of a whippet arrived first, grinning.

"Congratulations, for you the war is over. The sky was yours and you can still reach for it." Accented but good English.

Bugs raised his hands. "Sorry about your breakfast."

"Don't worry. A lot is ersatz."

Trudi Langer knew by heart the insignias of the P-47 which had shot up von Scheider's car and killed his driver (Sgt. Moos had been a nice man although nosy enough to scare her on occasion), so when word came that the aircraft had been shot down and its pilot captured she was anxious to meet the man. She guessed, correctly as it turned out, that the General also wanted a chat with Sgt. Jack Cole.

The prisoner arrived at Cochin Hospital late in the evening of the 13th - close timing, because Karl's suitcases were packed and he would soon board a plane back to Germany. When Karl saw Cole's face he knew at once the man's group and training location.

"332nd Fighter Group, USAAF," Karl said. "I understand that New Orleans and Tuskegee have much the same climate - hot and humid, with lots of lightning."

"A plane I was training in got struck. An ear-clapper but otherwise no big deal, General sir."

 _It was, for me._ "I want you to understand a few things, Sergeant. You shot up SS troops this morning, and an SS tank shot you down. They want you, and you may well end up in their care, angels that they are."

Cole remained at attention, eyebrows furrowed, almost masking the hint of fear in his face.

"Until the matter is adjudicated you will stay in Germany's only no-escape camp. Stalag 13. It has a _remarkable_ record," Karl said.

Trudi watched from close by, her face stern. The bruises from last week were fading but she still had purple under her eyes, purple which, together with her curves, made her look like a vixen.

Cole averted his gaze as he would at home. Lynchings were down in recent years but Jim Crow still cast a mighty shadow across America and the American sphere of influence. Here in Hitler's sphere matters were much worse.

Trudi went to the hospital kitchen, hamper in hand. The cook she wanted to see was on duty.

Within twenty minutes General Patrick Ruddy knew that General von Scheider would return to Germany and the man who'd wounded him had a very special destination.


	11. Welcome to Stalag 13

Bugs Cole, in his second day of captivity, was convinced that Germans were not much different from Americans. For sure they had their own flag which they displayed the way many an Alabama white displayed the Southern Cross or, more commonly since America joined the fight, the Stars and Stripes. Bugs' knowledge of German was limited to those words he'd picked up in the movies ( _ja, jawohl, nein, auf wiedersehen, raus, mach schnell_ ) plus the odd one he'd heard since his capture (he was quite convinced that _genug!,_ barked by the sergeant who'd captured him in response to catcalls from the other men, meant "enough!").

As for catcalls, he'd heard plenty from white American soldiers. But those men, like the Germans whose breakfast he'd ruined, would shut up if an officer or noncom told them to. That sergeant seemed like a good guy. The officers he'd met were straight and professional, frosty but no worse than many a US Army officer. General von Scheider didn't seem to hold a grudge.

Von Scheider was being checked at a clinic in Bad Godesburg. Bugs was riding in a Mercedes limo with Colonel Portmann and two guards in the back, although with Portmann's build guards might be redundant. Fortunately Portmann seemed to be even-tempered.

They drove through Hammelburg, passing the scorched Speer factory with its small army of repairmen. Beyond town were woodlots of oak and beech, plus farms. Two horses and a gray-haired man (Germany didn't seem to have near as many tractors as the USA) pulled a plough through what looked like firm brown loam.

The towers of Stalag 13 came into view. At the gate, an aging guard with thick-lensed eyeglasses waved them through. Portmann let out a sigh, and his eyes continued to glare at the sight of a very fat German eating what looked like an apple strudel in front of a barracks, with American and British prisoners around him plus a short Frenchman - who was holding the German's rifle! " _Heilige scheisse_ ," Portmann said. A couple of the Americans were black like Cole himself, and mingling casually with the others _._

The car parked in front of the best-looking building, which had a KOMMANDANTUR sign. The fat German, still chewing, collected his rifle and waddled over. A cheerful-looking American wearing an officer's hat and a dark leather jacket marched to the car as Portmann's guards escorted Cole out.

Cole read the American's name: COL. R. E. HOGAN. "Remember, name rank and serial number only." Cole nodded. Then Portmann barked, "Inside!"

Kommandant Klink (with that monocle you couldn't ask for a more stereotypical German villain) was waiting for them. He greeted Colonel Portmann with exaggerated friendliness and offered him a choice of drinks - brandy, schnapps or sherry. Portmann declined.

Klink grinned fiercely and wagged a finger at Cole. "My dear man, you are a guest of the most secure prison camp in all of Germany. Under my watch there has never been a successful escape. If you try, my guards will catch you. Or our dogs will catch you and tear you to ribbons."

Was it Cole's imagination or did Colonel Hogan, standing close behind, just snicker? Cole glanced around: Hogan wore the nearest thing to a smirk, Portmann looked singularly unimpressed, and the fat sergeant at the door looked as if he'd watched the same show about 144 times before.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Klink waved that finger almost like an agitated rattlesnake moving its tail. "If you outrun the dogs, any one of my guards can shoot you dead with one shot. One shot!"

Cole, remembering the man at the gate, snorted. He couldn't help it.

"Silence!" Klink screamed. "I do not tolerate insolence. Sergeant Schultz!"

The fat sergeant came to attention.

"Take this man to the cooler!"

 _"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!"_

"Colonel Klink, I protest," Hogan said. "Sergeant Cole just arrived. Give him a little time to break in." Hogan sounded half-hearted, as if he was resigned to the inevitable, but his eyes had a look of reassurance.

"Your protest is duly noted, Colonel Hogan. Cole is still going to the cooler. Dis-miss." Klink turned to Cole again. "Mark my words, if this war goes on another ten years and they decide to keep you here, you will _stay_ here and I will watch over you the whole time ... unless of course I get promoted to General." Klink smiled.

Cole's peripheral vision was good enough to see Portmann shaking his head.


	12. Bouncing Back

Karl sat up in his bed, much to the consternation of the pretty red-haired nurse who wanted him to stay down. He'd spiked a fever about an hour after Portmann and Cole had left for Stalag 13, and the doctors had taken him back to surgery to drain his belly. Having seen other men who'd been gut-shot and gone through repeated procedures, he was surprised at how good he felt - much less pain and maybe no fever. With the right management, broth for starters, his stomach should settle down.

" _Herr Generaloberst_ , please lie back." Karl stood instead, feeling a hint of dizziness but nothing which would topple him. Being not yet past half-century, he would bounce back from this. The elder years, in which you couldn't expect to return all the way from the accident or illness which landed you in hospital, were still some time ahead. Karl was one lucky soul and he wanted to run with his luck.

He stepped from the bed, pulling his IV pole. The nurse walked with him, ready if he were to fall. " _Herr Generaloberst,_ I must say some of the worst patients we see are high-ranking officers."

They stepped into the hall. Six people were coming; the face on the far right jumped to Karl's eyes the most. _Lilli!_ At her side was Trudi. With them were Tiny and two men in white jackets, obviously doctors. The sad-faced one on the left probably spoke English as his first language, as he was being escorted by an armed guard.

Lilli looked stern. She said, "Karl, this better not be a case of infidelity."

"In other words you're dismissed," Karl told the nurse.

The lead doctor, Gutesholz as Karl remembered, said " _Herr Generaloberst_ we are glad to see you up and around. With me is Michael Hunnicutt, an American who we captured yesterday. He may well have saved your life."

Karl said in English, "Dr. Hunnicutt, my guess is we also captured a supply of penicillin."

Hunnicutt grinned with the warmth of a natural bedside manner. "That's right, General. They let me assist in your treatment because I'm trained in its use. It really is the all-time wonder drug."

"So I've heard," Karl said.

After the two doctors confirmed that all evidence of infection had disappeared, Karl thanked them and turned to his wife. "Lilli, at the risk of coming across as a bad husband I have an important matter to discuss with Tiny. Trudi will keep you company. Remember, we're at war."

"I never forget that," Lilli said frostily.

A few seconds later Karl and Tiny had the room to themselves. Karl said, "Well?"

Tiny shook his head. "General, I _thought_ you were sarcastic about Stalag 13. It's worse than you could have prepared me for. Swiss cheese for security and a _kommandant_ who I'm sure is neither respected nor feared by any person in the place."

Karl said, "My dear Tiny, there is always fear ... of the Russian Front! _That_ is the matter we must discuss."


	13. Cooler Chat

Cole scooped a fly out of his soup - he guessed it was meant to be potato, but there was too little substance in it to be sure. He flung the dead insect in a nearby bucket which looked as if it had been sat on too many times. Another fly buzzed him as if it was angry. And the wall below his bunk began to rattle.

He peered down. A false piece was moving. Cole saw hands, and the sleeves of a dark leather jacket. Colonel Hogan emerged, and with him came the smell of cooked sausage and butter.

"Thought you might want a little extra," Hogan said, handing a bag to Cole. Inside were sausage rolls, potato cakes, jam sandwiches and a couple of apples.

"Thanks, Colonel. When do I get out?"

"Probably not today. We can't spring you while you're officially in Klink's custody - his record has to stay perfect. Now eat while they're fresh. Don't leave a crumb or LeBeau will be disappointed."

"Thank you, sir." Cole attacked the sausage rolls first.

"My source tells me you met General von Scheider, Chief of the German General Staff."

"Yeah ... last week I strafed his car, killed the driver, hurt everyone else and shot out one or two feet of the General's gut ... but he doesn't seem to begrudge me."

"That's 'cuz you're not Russian."

Cole cracked. He laughed, doubling over.

Hogan slapped Cole's calf and hissed, "Careful, Schultz is coming!"

Cole handed the bag to Hogan, who was retreating into the wall. He could hear Schultz's footfalls ... and feel the vibrations.

Schultz appeared on the other side of the door. "What is going on here?"

"Just a private joke, Schultz."

"It sounds like you're being tickled by a Jolly Joker."

"It's nothing."

Schultz frowned and widened his eyes. "Nothing is right. I see nothing, I hear nothing ... and I _smell_ nothing _."_ His stomach rumbled. He glared at Cole for a few more seconds, said "Another Jolly Joker," then turned and walked away. Cole padded to the door; the hall looked clear. In another minute he was back at his meal with Hogan beside him.

Hogan said, "What did von Scheider say?"

"He told me I was lucky to not be in SS hands but that might happen. Called them angels, all but said Stalag 13 was secure as Alcatraz ... I could smell his sarcasm."

"Anything else?"

"He was interested in Deep South weather ... just a hunch, Colonel, but maybe he got hurt by lightning in the USA. He thinks risk may be same in Tusk and Nola."

Hogan nodded slowly, as if he was digesting an important message.


	14. Arranging Action

"Himmler is annoyed with what Reize has done to his trains," Tiny said.

"He's always annoyed," Karl replied. "Never satisfied with the progress of his … evacuations, however many millions they have … _affected_." Many citizens of Germany and her conquered territories were participating or cooperating with Himmler's enforcers, but many others - altruistic natives and conquerors, bureaucrats who were slow with paperwork, trainmen who declared that their locomotives needed maintenance, combat commanders who wanted rolling stock, even some of Himmler's hand-picked SS-Police Leaders who didn't want to antagonize local populations - were blocking Himmler any way they could. So Karl had never expected the orders he'd given at the Adlon to make much difference.

In a few months Himmler would turn, demolishing the furnaces and extending secret peace feelers, but by then it would be much too late.

With a week and a day to go until Bagration, time was short to make any substantial change. Karl had to focus on saving as much armour as he could. That meant keeping the Third Panzer Army intact.

He knew who would be best for the job - _Generaloberst_ Gotthard Heinrici. The man was not a favourite among high Nazis and had been relegated to the Führer Reserve, but his defensive skill was second to none. Germany needed him back on active duty now, not in August.

"Tiny, I have to see the _Führer_ today if at all possible, and in any event we _will_ journey." If Karl couldn't go to Berchtesgaden this evening, his alternate destination would be Hammelburg.


	15. Food for Confrontation

Schultz supervised a farm work detail involving Hogan's men on the 15th, and was the most cheerful man by far. He happily told the gang that their smelly soil-conditioning job would help feed the German army. From time to time a pretty girl would get him a snack. When she served the first, her sister dropped a hanky without him noticing. Nor did he notice when Hogan picked up the hanky (which would later be heated to bring out its message) and pocketed it.

On marching back inside Stalag 13 late that afternoon, Hogan noticed the same Mercedes limo which had brought Cole yesterday. It was parked by the _Kommandantur_ and Hogan didn't need coffee to hear Klink's voice from inside: "Let me say again, General von Scheider, what an honor and pleasure it is to have you here..."

Von Scheider's reply was faint and probably didn't reflect his real sentiment.

A short time later, Schultz came to Hogan's office. "Colonel Hogan, your presence at the Kommandant's table for supper is requested by General von Scheider. Lebeau will prepare his usual fine food for the Kommandant and a special soft diet for the General."

LeBeau, angry gleam in his eye, stood nearby. After Schultz left, Hogan put a hand on LeBeau's shoulder.

"No prank, Lebeau. No spice for General von Scheider and no mineral like milk of magnesia either. Just soft wholesome food for a man who's recovering from a gut wound." Early this morning, London had told Hogan about von Scheider's injury and his planned visit to Stalag 13.

LeBeau's eyes softened. " _Oui, mon Colonel_. I have cooked for wounded before."

It turned out that Schultz, ever the sampler, enjoyed von Scheider's mashed carrot-turnip-potato combination as much as the "Pheasant Hammelburg" (which the rest of the world called Pheasant Kiev) that Klink and Hogan dined on.

"Excellent food," von Scheider said. "And I've seen for myself what my adjutant told me yesterday. Impressive security, Colonel Klink."

"Yes, _Herr Generaloberst -_ the fences look like wire but under my watch they are as solid steel."

"I keep forgetting," Hogan said cheerfully.

"Hogan! No more of your facetiousness." Klink wagged a finger.

"Facetiousness is the least of my concerns." Von Scheider's eyes never left Hogan. "Espionage and sabotage are more worrisome. The Hammelburg area has had more than its share and with Germany now in her greatest crisis I shall support the harshest measures against activity which runs against German interests."

Hogan said, "Go to Berlin, General."

Schultz, standing by the door, had his wide-eyed _I know nothing_ expression.

Klink said, "Hogan, may I remind you that General von Scheider is Chief of the German General Staff."

"Which makes me sort of powerful," Karl said, crooking a smile. His eyebrows remained furrowed.

Hogan said, "Roosevelt, Churchill and Eisenhower are sort of powerful, too. Even I shudder to think of how much more powerful Eisenhower could get."

Karl's smile disappeared. He said, "Don't forget Stalin. We never do."

Soon after supper, von Scheider returned to his car. Klink and Hogan stood close by as von Scheider's driver held the door for him.

"One last question, General sir," Hogan said. "Do you raise lilies? I hear they may be hard to grow these days."

"Don't you worry, Colonel Hogan. Mine is alive, however temperamental." Karl winked, then pulled his door shut. A few seconds later the Mercedes was on its way.

Klink leaned to Hogan and said, "If I were of more suspicious mind, I would say that there is something going on between you and the General."

"Don't worry about it." Hogan looked at Klink's hat as if he was seeing the bald dome beneath. "Worry will just make you shed what little you have."

Klink raised a hand as if to touch the top of his head, then quickly lowered it. "Colonel Hogan, your attitude may get you so far but one of these days it will put you in a jam from which you won't be able to talk your way out."

"Colonel Klink, millions across Europe have been in a jam for almost five years."

Klink lowered his head, then raised it and frowned ... although his stern Prussian act seemed half-hearted. "Dis-miss," he said, then he marched back to his office with more of a stoop than usual.


	16. Contemplation

_A good day,_ Karl thought as his car drove past the gate with its bat-eyed keeper still on duty. _I, and Germany, will need many more all in a row._ Earlier, Karl had watched Hogan and crew with binoculars (not suspecting Hogan of anything like chivalry when he collected that hanky). Klink had been at his side, all motormouth but helpful in identifying the prisoners.

Sergeant Andrew Carter was taller, leaner and better-postured than the _Führer,_ but given a narrow mustache and dim light he might fool Stalag 13 gatemen and then some. With the right training, he could perhaps fool the world.

 _A long shot,_ Karl thought, holding a copy of Carter's file as Stalag 13 disappeared from view. The opportunity, as in Karl's first time, might fail to be true. But for now he would keep the Carter option open.

If Carter was flatulence-free that alone would make him an improvement over the real stinker - who Karl would face tomorrow.


	17. Storm in the Berghof

Karl's limousine arrived at the _Berghof_ shortly before noon on the 16th. Cold drizzle oozed from mountain fog. Visibility was only a few tens of meters and that, Karl hoped, would favour him with no scenery to distract from business. On the other hand, the gloom might put Germany's _Führer_ in a worse mood than usual.

In Karl's first time on this day Hitler had been at his Wolf Canyon HQ in northern France, but now a stomach bug (as Karl had been told) was keeping him grounded in Berchtesgaden. The real reason, Karl thought, had to do with more Allied air activity across France. Squadrons were free to roam farther east because German resistance on the Cotentin Peninsula had collapsed much more quickly this time. The last holdouts had surrendered almost 12 hours ago with Cherbourg Harbour being taken 13 days "early."

Behind Karl was a somewhat less opulent Mercedes carrying General Gotthard Heinrici, who had conferred with Tiny yesterday. Heinrici was well briefed and ready to take command of the Third Panzer Army - if Hitler would let him.

Heinrici wore a sheepskin coat. It did not seem to be quite warm enough - or maybe the imposing, half-seen _Berghof_ was a chilling sight to him.

From out of the entrance, through the mist, came a stocky man whose hard eyes could make an alpha wolf cringe. _Reichleiter_ Martin Bormann exchanged salutes with the new arrivals and said, "Top marks for punctuality. Mind you, just between us that doesn't always matter the way The Chief sleeps in."

 _Ten days past Overlord, six days to Bagration and our leader is a slug-a-bed_ , thought Karl.

Bormann, all swagger, led the others inside. Post-war commentators would call the furnishings and paintings in the Great Hall "banal," Karl remembered, but to his eye they were solidly designed and certainly better than their owner deserved ... although _Venus and Amor_ was proof that Bordone was no Rubens.

A fat man who looked well past 60 (though Karl knew he was 57) walked into the Hall - Theodor Morell, accredited doctor of medicine but quack to many in Hitler's circle. His _Körpergeruch_ made Karl want to close nostrils.

Morell said, "My vitamins are performing their miracle on Patient A. He will meet you at lunch in twenty minutes."

Hitler's vegetarian diet and medical regime did not seem to agree with him. He was bleary-eyed and had such a tremor that it seemed a wonder he didn't spill more while feeding himself. Karl found the food quite tasty when the smell from the head of the table wasn't interfering. _Doctor and patient are two of a kind._

Hitler said, "General von Scheider, your new sense of adventure intrigues me and I must congratulate you on such a speedy recovery from what that nigger did."

"Thank you _Mein Führer,_ I still wish a lynching party had taken him before he could get to Tuskegee."

Hitler threw back his head and laughed. Heinrich Hoffman (Hitler's hard-drinking photographer) laughed louder and slapped the table. Bormann drummed and everyone else joined in. Karl saw the mood he wanted, although a more enthusiastic act from Heinrici would help.

Hitler said, "Those Tuskegee Airmen, their fellows, and all their whores in London, will have death rained on them very soon. They want us to reap a whirlwind, we will let them reap a _cyclone._ "

Karl had wondered about the V-1 campaign, which he'd expected to begin on the 13th. Had Hogan told his superiors about the rockets, or did some other factor - a bomb-laden squadron or group of saboteurs - come into play this time? The opportunity was still there to persuade Hitler to leave London alone and rain his rockets on free harbours instead, to let Allied front-line troops worry about their supplies. But knowing Hitler, attempting to persuade him to not terrorize a big city would be useless, or worse than useless. Hitler had a particularly cruel streak against any enemy city he eyed ... even disregarding London, the siege of Leningrad begun in early fall 1941 and not ended until well into winter 1944 was more than enough proof. Reluctantly, Karl decided to stay off the subject of rockets. His priority was to improve the Eastern situation.

Karl said, "A military cyclone, like a tropical one of great destructive power, moves from east to west. In Russia right now lies the greatest military cyclone of all time..."

"Pah!" Hitler interjected, waving a hand in dismissive gesture. "The Russians are war-weary. Stalin will let them make some more feints just to show they're strong as bears, then he'll sue for peace."

"Stalin will never want peace while German military is active."

"Von Scheider, have you not been studying our own intelligence reports? Morale among Soviet troops is deteriorating. Three years of war against me have cracked their nerves to the brink of shatter."

"That's what they want us to think!" Karl barked, remembering that in the first time his successor, Heinz Guderian, often shouted at Hitler and got away with it for many months. "They've got millions of fresh eager Siberian troops, better trained and equipped than ever, and in six days they will strike Army Group Center..."

"They will not strike the center, they will strike..."

"The south!" Karl felt his heart skip a beat as he loudly interrupted the man who had such power of life and death. Everyone else in the room watched with wide eyes and firmly shut mouths. Except for Tiny, who'd had almost two weeks of the "new-old Karl" - and Rudolf Schmundt who'd had a glimpse in Paris - all of them were seeing a very different von Scheider from the invariably polite, soft-spoken _lackai_ they'd last seen _. "_ I _have_ studied the intelligence, and it's what the Russians call a _maskirovka._ A series of elaborate hoaxes which we shall not believe any more!"

Hoffman, waving a liquor flag as Heinrici would put it, dealt the table one hearty thump before a glare from Hitler silenced him.

Karl went on, "To make a failure of this _maskirovka_ we need the kind of mobile defense that can achieve the most favourable casualty ratio ... and strike by counterattack when such opportunity arises. _Generaloberst_ Heinrici has a record in this area which speaks for itself. He is ready to take command of Third Panzer Army and will craft it to an even better machine of death to Bolsheviks."

Hitler stood and leaned to Heinrici, jabbing a shaky finger. "You ... were ordered to destroy an important Soviet city nine months ago. Smolensk was to be _levelled_. Instead, you left buildings _untouched._ "

Karl considered and rejected telling Hitler that some 85% of Smolensk would have to be rebuilt from scratch. Sometimes the only way to deal with the man was to let him rant.

"When I say scorched earth I mean exactly that!" Hitler slapped a hand near Heinrici's dish, rattling the utensils. "Nothing but ash! No food, no equipment, no building to set up a factory or shelter the wounded, no landmark to guide the enemy eye, no bridge, no road or railroad or airport. All must be destroyed!"

Heinrici looked like a model of dignity against the screams ... and _Körpergeruch._ A particularly smelly wave hit Karl's nose. _Did you do that, my Chief?_ Karl almost said.

Hitler slumped back in his chair. Schmundt leaned and whispered in his ear, eying Heinrici and Karl. Hitler nodded, sipped tea, then stood again.

"I want mountains of corpses. The Soviet is not to see his soil for all the bodies that cover it. All German troops will hold fast and attack unless I authorize a move. Are you prepared to obey all my orders, General Heinrici?"

In ten minutes Heinrici and his adjutant marched outside. Karl and Tiny marched alongside to see them off.

"Fresh mountain air," Heinrici said. Everyone else nodded agreement.

Karl and Heinrici shook hands. Karl said, "Good luck with the Third."

Heinrici smiled. "And with _your_ new life _."_

 _You can't know!_ Surely Heinrici was just responding to Karl's narrow escape from death, and changed personality. But given that the man was a pastor's son and religious himself...

Karl felt tingles dance over him as he watched Heinrici's car disappear in the mist.


	18. A Gestapo Man Gets Licked

_Kriminalobersekretär_ Bodo Bayerl telephoned _Kommandant_ Klink of Stalag 13 just before dawn on the 17th to relay an order from _Sturmbannführer_ Wolfgang Hochstetter. Klink didn't seem to like being wakened early but said he would be delighted to cooperate with the Gestapo. Stalag 13 was a model maximum-security camp and the handover of Sergeant Jack Cole could be done with utmost secrecy.

Cole's lips were nowhere near as protuberant as what cartoons showed but he was very much a nigger, thought Bodo, even with a proper military posture. Bodo had worked in foreigners' nightclubs of Berlin and Hamburg before the war and knew quite a few Western songs, including one that was more southern.

Soon after they left Stalag 13 Bodo said, "Tote dat barge, lif' dat bale, git a li'l drunk an' yo' lands in jail."

"Sir, you are no Paul Robeson."

"Ah'm sicka tryin ... ah'm tired a' livin ... but don't worry, we have a place for you." Bodo laughed.

Bodo's driver slowed the car, then put on the parking brake. Bodo saw another black Mercedes, its hood open, parked on the shoulder. Two men in plain suits were standing on the road. The only other visible person was a young boy who was running with a St. Bernard on the other side of a field about a hundred meters away.

Bodo stepped out. "Next time don't let a Polack service..." He realized that the larger man was aiming a gun at his chest, dead center.

"Hands up and face your car," the gunman said. "Hands on the roof."

Next thing Bodo knew, he had the worst headache of his life and his ears were ringing and something wet and smelly was slapping his face. He heard another car pull up, heard its door open then slam.

"Take your dog away from that man!" There was no mistaking the speaker - _Sturmbannführer_ Hochstetter. The smelly slaps stopped. Bodo opened his eyes.

The young boy was pulling his St. Bernard back to the field. The only car visible was Hochstetter's. Two polished black boots stood near Bodo's face and Bodo found himself afraid to look up.

"What happened!" Hochstetter barked.

"I got a licking," was all Bodo could think to say.

"Where is your car? WHERE IS YOUR PRISONER?!" Hochstetter's scream almost made Bodo pass out. He wished he would.

Right after the POWs finished a breakfast of woody bread, sour jam, and a rancid-nut drink that failed even on an ersatz level, a black Gestapo car pulled up to the _Kommandantur_. Hochstetter stepped out, face white, and marched to Klink's office.

"Gather around, men," Hogan said. "Coffee's on." They could hear Klink's voice pour out, then Hochstetter's which was much louder.

"Klink, two of my men are hurt and your prisoner is at large!"

" _My_ prisoner? Cole was officially signed out of my custody before he left this camp. You should choose better men for a transfer."

"Perhaps you're right." Hochstetter's voice was softer but Hogan sensed that he was coiling himself like a copperhead snake. "Those two were hit on the head so as to see stars. Soon they will see other stars, _red_ stars, and not anywhere near German soil."

"For the time being," Hogan said.

"Perhaps they're not the ones who should be going to the Russian Front," Klink said. "I have two theories."

"Keep them to yourself or you may keep whatever vodka you can collect."

"This is my office, _Sturmbannführer._ What we say will never leave the room."

"Except where coffee flows freely," Hogan said. He was worried about the spine that Klink seemed to be growing and part of him wanted to receive the inevitable _Was tut dieser Mann hier!_

 _"_ Now listen," Klink went on, "it's no secret that many Americans are harsh with their Negroes. What if some German group freed Cole just to show how much better Germans are than Americans?"

"Rubbish."

"Or how about rivals in your own organization? Maybe Cole isn't free and is already in an SS camp, and your men were hurt by other Gestapo men working for a rival..."

"Worse rubbish! I have work to do and I don't have any more time for you, Klink. In fact I've seen enough of you for the whole year. I say again, keep your thoughts to yourself for that sliver of a chance that you will stay in nice mild Germany. Heil Hitler!" Seconds later Hochstetter was outside, his voice carrying through the wall of the barracks as he barked at his driver.

Hogan knew from his first time of the corruption, feuds and rivalries in the Nazi hierarchy. Late in May Hochstetter had been ordered to assist in a corruption investigation - which was countermanded within a week after a fire at the home of the _Standartenführer_ who had hoped to pull weeds of dishonesty from the ranks in his jurisdiction.

Klink had touched a shingles nerve.


	19. I'll Do the Thinnin'

Just after morning _Appell_ on the 18th, a supply truck was waved through the Stalag 13 gate. In addition to the expected cargo (American Red Cross packages, to the delight of all) there was a passenger - a tall, harsh-looking corporal who went straight to the _Kommandantur_.

"Time for a _Kaffeekränzchen,"_ Hogan said _._ Soon he was sitting beside the electric pot with Newkirk, Carter and Kinch as LeBeau brewed coffee in the stovetop percolator.

For quite a while all that could be heard was faint rustling, as of papers being turned. Hogan expected this - ever since the Armistice Hoax in which Klink belatedly learned that Schultz used to own a toy factory, the _Kommandant_ studied personnel files more carefully _._

Klink spoke: "Corporal Funke, in July 1939 you were arrested in Paris for assaulting a girl."

 _"Herr Kommandant,_ she was only a nigger. And I've already seen more niggers here than I care to."

Kinch whistled softly. He closed and opened his hands as if to get them ready for the boxing gloves.

Klink said, "Corporal, my staff and I will not tolerate any thuggish behaviour. In our camp we abide by the Geneva Convention. And you had better behave yourself in Hammelburg - any complaints either in town or here and I shall have you sent to Polotsk without delay. Have I made myself clear?"

 _Jawohl, Herr_ _Kommandant."_

 _"_ If you can play these groups against each other by clever means, you have my blessing. And good luck to you while Colonel Hogan runs this ... what am I saying, _I_ run this camp and don't you forget that!"

Hogan drawled, "I'll do the thinnin' around here, and don't you fergit it."

Kinch laughed. "What's this, Colonel?"

"Coming catchphrase." _In 15 years, with Quick Draw McGraw._

A few minutes later, Hogan stood outside the barracks and watched as Funke marched to the _Kaserne_. He suspected that Funke's act and backstory had been created by Karl von Scheider. Surely the General wouldn't send a thug.

 _Watch yourself, Karl ... wherever you are._


	20. A White Cross for Lilli

At the Swissair departure gate in Tempelhof, Karl focused his Rolleiflex camera on Lilli and her charges - three sad little girls, obviously sisters, who constantly clung to each other. All had been injured by an American bomb last November. Helga, at nine the oldest, was least injured but suffered from asthma. The five-year-old twins Irmine and Otthild had burn scars on their faces and were deaf; though born identical, Otthild was thinner because like Karl she had lost much of her gut.

Karl had what he thought was a signature image: three children who looked like they would never smile again, and a grim Lilli. _Click._ He put the camera in its carrying case and walked to the group.

The childrens' aunt (and caregiver - their parents had not survived) Rosalinde (who'd befriended Lilli in 1941) had attended university in Bern and dated a doctor. He had arranged to have the children treated at a clinic. Rosalinde would have accompanied them but yesterday the long arm of Joseph Goebbels drafted her for factory work. Karl could have persuaded Goebbels to let Rosalinde go; instead, he jumped at the chance to get Lilli out of Germany.

This morning at five he had served her breakfast in bed and offered the chaperone job. She did not accept it right away. It would, Karl knew, be in conflict with her current job.

"You can eat at Schwellen again like before," Karl said.

" _That_ place?"

Schwellen wasn't bad, really; in fact, its fare was five-star by comparison with Western Allied POW camps (except maybe Stalag 13) and _infinitely_ better than what other Nazi camps offered. It just had too many mushy vegetables and over-spiced meats for the likes of upper-class palates.

Karl lowered the corners of his mouth, furrowed his eyebrows and said, "Can't fault the location."

One block from the British Embassy.

Lilli's ears went red. "How ... long have you known?"

"Two weeks. The longest two weeks of my life, and _that's_ been longer than you think _."_ Karl kept silent about the details.

Now, on this hot morning (hotter than any day in Germany of what Karl remembered from his first time) Lilli said, "I don't mind telling you, Karl, I've had my longest four hours ever." She had spent the time stern-faced, determined to face her fate bravely if the chaperone bit was a pre-arrest ruse.

"You'll be safe soon. Just stay away from where they feed birds. Put something on that topic in your telegram tonight."

Karl wished he could stay at the airport, but he had potential Germany-saving work to do. On returning to headquarters, he made a series of calls to officers who he'd sent east and to unit commanders. Many of them had been briefed on Heinrici's tactics, but many others had yet to be ... and more than a few still believed, based on the quality of soldiers captured by their patrols, that the Russian military was deteriorating. Karl stayed at his office well past midnight.

When he got home, a telegram was waiting. He read it aloud.

"All safe. Damn crows. Long life to you. Love, Lilli"

Smiling, he poured a finger of brandy. He looked around casually and the wall-mounted hygrometer - a professional model given to him by Hermann Göring as a birthday present in 1940 - caught his eye.

The pointer read 33%, in the orange zone which ended at 35%. It had probably been lower than that during the afternoon, maybe in the red zone (25% and below). Southerly breezes sighed against the house. This combination of low humidity and breezy wind would make any outdoor fire, as from an air raid, difficult to contain.

Karl's smile was gone. He phoned the _Luftwaffe_ weather office and spoke to its night supervisor _._ His news was not good - an airmass from the Sahara Desert had arrived over Germany. This new day, the 19th, was expected to be even hotter - possibly above thirty-five degrees Centigrade.

Or thirty-five _squared_ degrees if bombers come, thought Karl.


	21. Rauchen Verboten

By 1000 on the 19th the weather at Stalag 13 was so hot and windy that Corporal Tim "Smoggy" Ashe, a tobacco addict from California, said it was "like Culver City in a Santa Ana." On the other side, Corporal Funke appeared to be in a bad mood. As Hogan and Newkirk watched from beside the doorway to their barracks, Funke grabbed a cigarette from the mouth of an older private and ground it out.

"Do not smoke again. Don't you see how dry it is, you'll burn this camp and its surrounding area." Funke saw another man with a lit cigarette and rushed over.

"Working hard to be popular, ain't he?" Newkirk said.

"Yeah." Hogan frowned. Funke was acting much like a Nazi on an anti-smoking campaign, but his body language was of a commissioned officer rather than a thug.

Klink stepped out of the _Kommandantur_ and went to his Mercedes. Funke marched to him and saluted.

 _"Herr Kommandant,_ men are smoking when they mustn't. It is very dry and the fire hazard..."

Klink wagged a finger. "Private Funke, or have I not got around to demoting you, _I_ make the rules and _I_ will decide when smoking is to be forbidden. Now go to the motor pool as you were assigned!"

"Same old Klink, all bark," Newkirk said.

A gust bared Klink's head. He ran after the hat, which came to rest against a dull green clump of grass. The color was odd, and as he inspected the blades they fell apart in his fingers.

Klink turned, glared and pointed. "Hogan, you tell your men to put their tobacco and matches away! As of now smoking and the display of flame are _verboten_." Klink's finger was steady - he was ready to _bite_ if Hogan didn't obey.

"Yessir," Hogan said. He turned to face inside the barracks. "Smoggy, put that out. No one's to smoke or light a match until further notice."

Men booed. Klink, holding the hat, marched to his office. Seconds later the loudspeakers crackled.


	22. Alarm

Karl got his expected phone call from Stalag 13 shortly after the desk clock sounded twelve times.

 _"Herr Generaloberst_ , I regret to say that Colonel Hogan is suspicious of me. Half an hour ago he said to pass his hello. I didn't let on, but..."

"No fault of yours, my dear Funke. The man has more experience than people twice his age." Certain that Funke had good news or what he thought was good, Karl said, "Anything else?"

"Klink banned smoking and open flame two hours ago. The Hammelburg area is primed for conflagration. How is Berlin...?"

"Not any better." Karl's hygrometer had indicated 22%, in the red, when he left home five hours earlier. With the static electricity even worse since then, the pointer was probably a lot lower.

"Klink's in a mood because someone from the Inspector General..." Klink's background shouts interrupted Funke. "Sir, I must go."

"Keep up the good work and don't let that Red Cross tempt you."

Funke's trouble wasn't lust but black market greed.

A siren came on. _No!_ That big storm to the west was supposed to be grounding those bombers in Britain. But Italy also had newly-purposed aerodromes and at this time of year bad weather there was uncommon.

Karl rushed to the window and opened it. The breeze felt as hot as the discharge from an electric hair dryer. The street lindens were swaying, their green leaves half wilted. The sky was studded with tiny cumuliform clouds, orange-tinted against the milky background but otherwise rather like the formations he had seen in New Orleans just before everything lit. Tingles of dread filled Karl's scrotum and quickly spread everywhere.

He hurried to his telephone and called the local _Luftgaukommando_ , whose officer saw no evidence of "incoming" and speculated that static electricity had triggered a false alarm. That made sense. Karl called the weather office and expressed his hope that the new clouds meant the humidity would soon rise.

His conversation with the meteorologist lasted almost five minutes. On finishing, he went straight to his toilet - his bowels had turned to water, and probably not from illness.

Those cirrocumulus, the meteorologist had explained, were evidence of upper-level instability and would not by themselves raise humidity. The lower level air remained extremely dry with relative humidity down to 14%. A blocking high lay to the east, extending from Egypt to northern Russia, and its clockwise circulation was bringing a long fetch of air from the world's largest hot desert to all Germany. This pattern, the meteorologist said, could persist for several days or even a week. The clouds, far from being a sign of imminent improvement, indicated that the fire hazard was worse - much worse.

With the upper atmosphere unstable, Germany was primed not for conflagrations but for firestorms with their cyclone-force winds and great hunger for oxygen. Tens of thousands, or perhaps in Berlin _hundreds of thousands,_ could die from one air raid producing one storm _._

Karl remembered from his first time that Berlin had suffered a thousand-plane raid on the 21st _._ A similar raid this time had the potential to be more deadly than all of the first-time firestorms ... including Hamburg, Dresden, Tokyo, Hiroshima and Nagasaki _... combined._

On finishing his dump _,_ Karl rushed to his telephone and pressed the secretary's button _._ Trudi Langer answered. Karl told her to cancel the afternoon appointments and come to his office with Colonel Portmann.

During the first life von Scheider and Portmann had long been aware of the anti-Hitler conspiracy but had neither supported nor betrayed its members. The D-Day hoax put Karl out. Tiny went to the Russian Front and was killed in East Prussia that October. This time, Karl was nudging Tiny to better commitment. The two had drafted a plan to grab Andrew Carter around the end of June and prepare him to take Hitler's place by mid-July.

Tiny and Trudi entered, and Karl got right to the point. "The three of us are going to Stalag 13 this afternoon, and we will induct Sergeant Carter _today._ Trudi, let London know."

Trudi stood silent in a mostly-creditable act, but her face blushed as red as the freshest beet.

"I've suspected for quite a while. Go on. If our plan fails, we and many thousands of people in Berlin alone will have nothing to worry about. If it works, this war could be over in two days."


	23. Back from the Future

Hogan and some of the other men were outside at 1320 when a dark blue Opel Admiral with the Inspector General flag pulled up at the _Kommandantur._ London had called about fifty minutes ago and Hogan wanted to maintain the appearance of normalcy even as his operation began to be dismantled. His superiors didn't trust von Scheider and wanted the Heroes out immediately. Only the intervention of General Ruddy gave Hogan anything like the way he wanted and even Ruddy was firm - the Heroes were to be out of Stalag 13 not later than noon on the 21st.

A bespectacled man in colonel's dress opened the rear passenger door. "Look at this, look at this all, I can tell you right now the commandant is not, absolutely not, going to get a passing grade. There's no way in a thousand years that will happen."

 _Wow what a motormouth, worse than Klink._

 _"_ What German built these barracks, if any?" the colonel shouted, holding the door. "This is no way to convince the enemy that we and only we are the master race."

But Hogan's attention was no longer on Colonel Blab.

For the lady stepping out was none other than Marya Parmanova. She saw Hogan and smiled more widely than he had ever seen her smile before. It was the smile of someone who has a _big_ surprise.

The colonel didn't seem to notice. "When I see that Klink I shall give him such a dressing down that he will cry rivers. Just watch me in action and you will see."

Marya winked.

Klink stepped out of his office and introduced himself to the visiting colonel, who identified himself as Piligrim Mundesinger. "Let's tour this entire camp, shall we, Klink? I see so many problems already my notebook may not have enough pages to enter them in."

Marya walked little more than ten yards before she put a hand to her forehead. "Pili, I do not feel so well. I should rest."

Klink said, "Miss Parmanova, my guest room is free and at your convenience. Schultz! Show Miss Parmanova to the guest room and see that she is comfortable and not disturbed."

Minutes later, Colonel Mundesinger resumed his tour with Colonel Klink and Corporal Funke the recipients of his ongoing tongue. Klink would be tied down for quite a while, Hogan thought. He would show Marya what a mole he was.

On emerging in the guest room he saw Marya playing cards at a table. Her smile was as wide as what he saw earlier.

"Hogan darling, step over here. Do you miss the CD? The desktop?"

Hogan felt himself blush. "Wha-ha ... what makes you think...?"

"The changes this time, I guessed you had something to do with them. So where were you the night of June 5, 1994?"

"With me, it didn't happen at night."

"Please answer the question."

"New Orleans, either in a cooler or an urn. It happened in high daylight on the _fourth_."

"Ah ... other side of the date line." Marya leaped from her chair and grasped Hogan's hands.

Hogan thought for a moment. "Let me guess, you were on a cruise ship somewhere between South Africa and Australia."

"Excellent, darling."

"A few degrees south of the tropic?"

"I didn't track the course on a map, but I think so. It was a little chilly."

"Antipode of New Orleans. Were you outside?"

"I was walking under the stars and these blue flames rose around me. Next thing I knew, I was in a nightclub and von Bornemann was wooing me."

"Yeah, I remember him. Got spaced out at the end."

Marya laughed. "Maybe I'd have gone steady with him again, but I noticed this talkative colonel whose audience was pretending to listen, and I decided to show the man I _really_ listen."

"That's the way."

"I've had about enough of him. But I want his brother."

"Who's he?"

"Captain Korbinian Mundesinger."

"Don't tell me he works under Hitler's nose."

"Hogan my darling man. We were meant to work together."

"Please tell me _what_ and _where_ he works."

"He's a radio technician at the Berghof."

"My hunch is he's about to become our most valuable person."

Hogan poured himself a small glass of brandy. He needed something just now. Marya watched him, all damn smile.

"Marya, have you heard of General Karl von Scheider?"

"Chief of the German General Staff - and marked for death since 1941."

"Death had a very long wait, until I was beside him at the University of New Orleans. He's also replaying ... and he'll be here this afternoon."

"Then maybe the reaper won't have such a long wait this time." Marya produced a tiny but well-crafted pistol as if by magic.

"If you kill him you'll be killing many thousands of Germans and thousands on thousands more of your own people."

"You're crazy."

"He has a plan to stop the war in two days. He's going to take Andrew Carter and let him imitate Hitler." That was word from the spy in von Scheider's office, relayed by London. Hogan didn't tell of London's skepticism. "With your man in the Berghof, it just might work."

Marya's eyes remained cold.

 _My fellow replayers hate each other and I'm about to be the man in the middle._


	24. A Doctor Comes to the House

The sound of a heavy vehicle, definitely not a car, caught Hogan's ear. "New POWs, I think. I have to meet them. Marya, promise me you'll never harm von Scheider."

Marya sat still, her eyes as cold as ever.

"Today, anyway."

Had Hogan blinked he might have missed Marya's nod. He entered the tunnel, returned to _Barracke 2,_ and stepped outside.

An Opel Blitz was parked near the _Kommandantur_. Corporal Langenscheidt and three other guards were in charge of the six prisoners, all American. Everyone was sweaty in the heat. Langenscheidt was directing the group in his usual pleasant manner. The Americans looked as if they had expected a rougher reception. The senior rank among them was a tall, sad-faced captain.

Langenscheidt said, "Colonel Hogan, a real treat has arrived today. Meet Doctor Michael Hunnicutt."

Hogan grinned and extended a hand. "Doctor, welcome to Noescapesville, Germany." Hunnicutt grinned and shook in return.

Langenscheidt said, "Kommandant Klink is busy with a visitor, so you will meet..."

"Is that who your Klink is busy with?" a private said, pointing. Marya had stepped outside. One of the other Americans bellowed laughter but the others, including Hunnicutt, stayed quiet. Marya's icy look could have stopped the Vesuvius eruption back in March.

Hogan said, "Doctor, something tells me your timing couldn't be better."

In the _Kommandantur,_ Captain Gruber spoke to the new arrivals. As usual, he was less condescending than Klink. He summarized the rules and talked of the procedures - paperwork, lice check, showers - that would follow. He finished with, "This camp has no escape on record, and we should all pray that remains the case until peace comes. We are at a most dangerous phase of war."

 _Captain, you're even more right than you know._


	25. Meeting Before Departure

A black Mercedes, all diesel growl, drove into the compound as Hogan and his men watched. Hunnicutt and his fellows were just entering their second hour at Stalag 13.

Carter said, "Looks like Gestapo" as the car parked by the office.

"Your ride," Hogan said.

Dietmar Portmann, Karl von Scheider and a voluptuous young woman stepped out. Karl said, "Colonel Hogan, I hand you Trudi Langer. She did fine work for me before I discovered she was doing even better work for your side. And I trust you received my other present today."

"Doctor Hunnicutt, I presume. Nice tall guy but I have a present for you that's even bigger - a wild Siberian tiger."

"I'm Belarusian and Colonel Hogan knows it." Marya stood right beside Hogan, having approached him unheard. Assassin's silence. "You must be the infamous General von Scheider."

"At your service."

"As lackey of Hitler your signature is on the Commissar Order."

Von Scheider blushed. "That is true."

"You could have refused to sign it. The blood of my father ... and countless fellow citizens ... is on your hands!"

If anyone could fire death rays, thought Hogan, Karl would already be dead from Marya's discharge.

"Here come the men we want," Hogan said. A smug Mundesinger and a very dejected-looking Klink were approaching the _Kommandantur._ Funke, walking beside Klink, looked mildly surprised on seeing his General.

Mundesinger quickened his pace and saluted von Scheider. " _Herr Generalobers_ t, I am Colonel Piligrim..."

"Step into Klink's office, the lot of you."

Inside, Mundesinger was first to speak. " _Herr Generaloberst_ , as a member of the Inspector-General I have toured this camp and found many..."

"Save it for the Inspector-General himself," Marya said. "Tell us about your kid brother."

Mundesinger said, "He works at a classified..."

"He's a radio technician at the Berghof. You told me yourself."

Mundesinger's ears, then face, went red. "I don't remember telling you."

"You drink so much you have blackouts."

"And I think you have double vision," Hogan added. "You see two trouble spots when there's only one. If Colonel Klink ran this place badly we'd all have escaped long ago, and speaking of escape that's something everyone here, guest and host, may have to do in two days."

Klink said, "What are you talking about, Hogan?"

"I've been ordered to take myself and my men out of here in less than 45 hours."

Von Scheider said, "Hogan has been involved in espionage and sabotage activities around Hammelburg since he arrived here 21 months ago. If you want to stay alive, Klink, you need to listen to what Hogan and his tiger lady..."

"Marya Parmanova. Klink and I have already met."

"...and I have to say."

Among the Germans in the office, Klink, Gruber and Funke were pale while Mundesinger was red. Mundesinger said, "Surely if this was a center ... I'd have found evidence." His face looked even more engorged as he finished, with a look that screamed _me and my loose lips_.

Hogan grinned. "We clean up after ourselves."

Schultz was standing by the door. He said, "All these years of saying 'nothing,' I lied. I figured out these Jolly Jokers long ago."

"Schultz, you knew all along and did nothing?" Klink yelled. "That is treason!"

Hogan said, "Klink, you may be the most foolish colonel in the German military and the _second_ most foolish among all the belligerent powers..."

Newkirk, head down as if he was ashamed, said, "Rather distant second, I have to say."

Hogan went on, "But you have a latent intelligence which grew the second that grass crumbled in your hand this morning. Use it now."

Von Scheider said, "Colonel Klink, Germany will burn very soon unless our plan to stop the war works. We need your help."

"What can I do?"

"First, tell us: Can Gruber be trusted?"

Klink looked at his second-in-command as if he was about to ask permission. Gruber nodded.

Klink said, "Six weeks ago I caught Captain Gruber writing unflattering things about National Socialism in his diary. I reprimanded him, warned him about eyes in the walls."

Hogan rubbed his right ear.

"But you did nothing else?" von Scheider asked.

"No, sir. It was just a talk between the two of us. Nothing was put on his record."

" _Herr Kommandant_ ," Schultz said softly, "doing nothing was doing something."

Klink said, " _Herr Generaloberst_ , is doing nothing what you want of us?"

"In a way, yes. Hogan and some of his men will be leaving with me. If anyone asks, go ahead and say I took them. Continue to run this camp as normal through tomorrow."

"And prepare to evacuate the day after," Hogan said. "Newkirk will be in charge. Klink, you and your men will either have to join the Underground or go into hiding. If the Gestapo catches you, Hochstetter may be the _least_ of your problems."

In his first time, Hogan and his Heroes had airlifted food to Holland over the last days of war, unaware that most of their former keepers - including Klink, Gruber, Schultz, and Langenscheidt - had been murdered by the Gestapo. Hochstetter denied any involvement and was outraged by the summary nature of the executions (he'd wanted documented interrogations).

Von Scheider said, "Colonel Hogan, pick who you want and prepare to go. I'd like to leave within half an hour."

For a second or two, Klink looked at Hogan with horror-wide eyes, like those of a small child being separated from parents. Then he firmed his expression and saluted.

"Good luck, Colonel Hogan. Good luck to us all."


	26. Preparation Night

Hogan sensed that no one would sleep at the home of Captain Korbinian Mundesinger in Berchtesgaden. It was almost midnight and the voices of Kinch, Carter and General von Scheider, all speaking German, could still be heard going over Carter's script for tomorrow and honing his speech to an impeccable Hitler soundalike.

Korbinian frequently contributed something. He, like his brother, had responded well to what von Scheider called a "Corleone offer." Unlike Piligrim, he was normally quiet. In mid-evening, just after supper, he had struggled to form words as his eclectic group of visitors sat around the table.

Gesturing stiffly, he'd finally said, "You can't ... just come and tamper with the equipment on my say-so. There has to be a reason for a repair crew ... scheduled maintenance, or a work order, and for _that_ there has to be a known malfunction for which a work order can be written."

"Like noise or static in the broadcast?" Kinch had asked. "If you have electronic gear and a workshop, I can create something."

Korbinian had donated his radio. "Please be careful. It's a present from Goebbels." From it, Kinch crafted a device small enough to hide in a cigarette tin, prompting Hogan to suggest the Impossible Missions Force as Kinch's future employer.

Trudi Langer had insisted on joining the group, and after initial reluctance Hogan consented. He was glad. Trudi had befriended Marya and seemed to be a calming influence on her. She had spent much of the evening teaching Trudi to throw bladed weapons - including a big meat cleaver which Göring had presented to Korbinian's wife Veleda in 1941 - and use them in melee.

Hogan stepped outside and sat on a deck chair. In the darkness, on the other side of the valley, was the Berghof. _He's out there,_ Hogan thought. _Tomorrow we may meet him and we **will** try to stop his war._

There had been talk of the failed attempts to kill Hitler but Carter - who had a tendency to let his mouth run faster than his brain - simply said, "Don't kill him, isolate him." That, Hogan thought, was one time his brain sprinted fit to match his tongue.

The Fearless Peacemakers would take control of the Berghof media center on the pretext of servicing its equipment. Hogan and von Scheider would let Carter as Hitler broadcast an evacuation order to the Obersalzburg military complex. Everyone would assume that Hitler was in the media center. No one would check Hitler's bedroom. Once the Berghof and its surroundings were clear, "Hitler" would broadcast a cease-fire order and surrender offer for the world to hear.

The real Hitler would have to stay asleep, and the Peacemakers would have to let no Nazi meet his vocal doppelganger face-on. Korbinian was fairly sure that Hitler _would_ sleep in - a stomach bug was winding down and he was due to crash. Keeping men like Martin Bormann, Theodor Morell and Johann Rattenhuber out of the way would be more challenging.

Hogan rubbed and closed his tired eyes. When he opened them again, twilight was lighting the land brighter than the moon ever could. He followed the smell of coffee and cooking to the kitchen, where LeBeau and Marya had aprons on.

 _A fine meal's coming_ , Hogan thought. _God willing, it won't be our last._


	27. Shooing the Wolves

Entry and setup at the Berghof were easy. Korbinian went in early, disabled the siren nearest Hitler's bedroom, and installed Kinch's noise generator. When the Peacemakers arrived one hour later, the gate guards knew about the work order.

The media center was much like a radio station, with telephones, teletypes, and a broadcast booth. There was even a bulletin concerning the future installation of television equipment. Broadcasts could be made to all of the Reich, or just the Berchtesgaden-Obersalzburg region.

By 7 AM, Carter was in uniform and had the mustache on. All was ready. Carter looked nervous and unready, but when he started to speak it was evident to Hogan and the others that the hours of rehearsal might well pay off.

"To all personnel of Obersalzburg Military Complex, and citizens of Obersalzburg and Berchtesgaden: I am Adolf Hitler, your Führer, with an emergency announcement that applies to all. Our enemy was first to use poison gas in the Great War, and he is using it against us now." Carter's voice projected fear and rage, as had been impressed on him at rehearsal. "As I speak, enemy bombers are on their way here with loads of lethal gas for which there is no antidote, no protection. Your only hope of survival is to evacuate. Leave now. Along the exit routes you will find checkpoints, at which you will be directed to a safe location. I repeat: all people, civilians and soldiers alike, in the Obersalzburg Military Complex and nearby towns must evacuate now. Generaloberst Karl von Scheider of the German General Staff is at my side. He and I will stay and coordinate this evacuation ... and a retaliatory strike which will make our enemies regret their heinous move for many years to come!"

Carter shouted on, urging townspeople to save their children and promising that those who sowed winds of gas would reap whirlwinds of more deadly retaliation.

Martin Bormann flung open the door and entered the studio. As planned, Carter's back was to the doorway and with his voice a perfect match for Hitler's, Bormann had no reason to suspect that the speaker was an imposter. Von Scheider stood in front of him.

"Karl, what in the tar pits of Hades ... I must talk to The Chief."

"Interrupt this speech? The Chief is not nearly finished. Just go, Martin. Save yourself."

Bormann grinned fiercely and shook his head. "You're both fucking crazy," he hissed, then marched briskly out.

Karl mopped his forehead. "That could have been worse," he told Hogan.

The faint notes of sirens and the increasing hum of traffic told the Peacemakers that the Berghof and its surroundings were indeed being evacuated. Some of Hitler's staff looked through the doorway before moving on. Two or three of Hitler's secretaries sniffled. "Our brave leader," the youngest one said.

"Hitler better not wake up now," Kinch muttered.

"Morell's _vitamins_ can keep him up only so long," Karl said, "but ... speak of the devil."

Theo Morell had entered the media room. "What is..."

"I'll show you," Trudi said, leading Morell out of sight of the doorway. Marya appeared from behind a cabinet, ropes and gag ready. Morell struggled against the two women until he noticed the steady aim of Karl's gun. Hogan held Morell as Trudi and Marya made sure he would stay immobile.

"Yeesh," Hogan said. "Physician, cleanse thyself."

Marya and Trudi nodded agreement. Korbinian peered through the doorway. "All clear," he said.

Hogan led Carter from the microphone and patted his shoulder. " _Super_ job, Andrew."

Carter wiped his forehead. "Thanks, Colonel. Now on to the cease-fire."

"Not yet," Karl said.

"General, shouldn't we get this done and scram?"

"We need to let Bormann go well away from here before you talk again."

Hogan said, "The General's right. Bormann as Hitler's top deputy is one of the most powerful men in Germany. He expects to gain even more power with Hitler's successor. When he hears that he's going to lose his power, he'll cruise back here with his bodyguards and politely ask ' _was zum Bumsen ist los'."_

Carter stroked his neck _._ "Things are never that simple, are they?"


	28. Adolf's Rib

A woman called from upstairs. "Theo! He needs you!"

"Eva Braun," Karl said.

"Theo! Doctor!"

A hoarse voice: "Where is everyone? Theo, come quick! I've had an accident!"

Karl stepped into the Great Hall and saw Braun, who was wearing a pink housecoat. Her strawberry blonde hair was a rather obvious dye job.

"General von Scheider. Where's Doctor Morell?"

"Come, I'll show you."

Inside the media center Braun gasped, wide-eyed.

Carter pointed and barked, "Go to that corner and do everything those two ladies tell you."

"How ... I thought one of you was plenty."

Trudi and Marya immobilized Braun beside Morell. Marya said, "Braun, I don't know which is worse, your perfume or his _Körpergeruch_."

The unseen Hitler cried, "Doctor! Eva! Eva!" Hogan was reminded of the time in 1969 when his sick father, alone in the hall of a nursing home, had spent an afternoon calling him.

"No pity," Hogan reminded himself aloud. Every free person in the room nodded agreement. Countless infants, elders and other helpless people across Europe had cried and were crying for caregivers who would never come.

"Eva! EVAAAA!"

"Eva is coming," the cold-eyed Marya said. She marched out of the room and dashed upstairs. Hogan and Karl followed. They saw Marya enter a doorway.

The shot sounded hardly more consequential than the noise of a child's cap gun.


	29. Carter's Proclamation

When the three old souls returned to the media center, Hogan wasted no time. "Hitler lives, and he's about to surrender Germany. Marya and Trudi, go to the teletypes and follow Captain Mundesinger's instructions. It's time for a broadcast to the world."

Mundesinger switched on the equipment. Hogan patted Carter's shoulder.

Carter said, "People of Germany, and soldiers throughout the Reich: I am Adolf Hitler your Führer. I have struggled for eleven years along with all of us to bring peace and good order first to our Fatherland, then to all Europe. We have built much, and despite the especially hard struggles of the past year and a half, we continue to hold much. All of our armed services have earned the respect of the world through the courage and skill of the German soldier. We all can be proud of our conduct in this Second Great War.

"However, circumstances have made the continued prosecution of this war worse than useless for Germany. I therefore order a cease-fire which shall take effect at midnight. All soldiers on every combat front will cease fighting at that time. In the interim, no offensive action is to be taken. Positions may be defended at the unit commander's discretion until the cease-fire becomes effective. All military and police checkpoints in Germany and throughout the German dominion will stand down immediately, as the free movement of people and goods is not to be inhibited. An immediate holiday is also ordered for all border officials in the German jurisdiction."

Every light on the switchboard was flashing.

"The Home Army will place protective cordons around the homes and offices of all Reich Ministers and all Gauleiters. These people and their deputies must be restricted in communications and movement until further notice. All government buildings are to be sealed off.

"Effective immediately, an amnesty is granted to all who have been imprisoned in the Reich since 1933. Those prisoners who are unable to support themselves will receive all available services from social and medical organizations, including the Red Cross. As of now, borders of the Reich are open to shipments of food and medicine, and to medical personnel. Searches for fugitives are to end at once. Ghettoes are to be unsealed, as their populations now have liberty."

Carter spoke on for another two minutes, specifying the buildings (like the Reich Chancellery and the Propaganda Ministry) which were to be especially guarded, along with top Nazis such as Goebbels, Göring and Himmler. He finished with, "I request to meet the Supreme Commanders of the Western Allies and the Soviet Union at a place of their choosing. May Providence be with us all, and long live Greater Germany."

Kinch turned off the microphone and said, "Next step is to speak to the generals. Dozens are calling." He passed a handset. "Here's Rommel."

Carter took the handset and swallowed. His Adam's apple bobbed more than Hogan had noticed before.


	30. Silencing the Western Front

_"Herr Feldmarschall,_ how are you ... yes, I feel quite myself, all that's changed is the light of Providence. Go to Eisenhower, do you hear? ... At once ... Thank you, _Feldmarschall_ Rommel." Carter covered the mouthpiece, cleared his throat and said, "That went better than I thought."

Hogan and Kinch nodded. Kinch said, "Here's _Generaloberst_ Bruno von Hammerschlag, commandant of Paris."

Carter got to the point: "Von Hammerschlag, you and your men are to leave Paris with all possible speed and return to Germany. Don't bother to burn anything and don't take anything, just get out now. If you find yourself blocked in, you may surrender. Above all, Paris and her people are not to be touched."

Hogan heard the tinny but discernible reply, _"Ja-jawohl, mein Führer._ I will start the evacuation at once."

After the general clicked off, Hogan patted Carter's shoulder. "LeBeau would approve, which reminds me..."

LeBeau was standing watch outside. Hogan clicked the walkie-talkie. Two clicks sounded in reply. "Still clear," Hogan said.

Calls were coming from all corners of Europe. As had been planned, Kinch let Carter talk to von Falkenhausen in Belgium, von Hanneken in Denmark, Terboven in Norway, Seyss-Inquart in Holland and Löhr in Greece. Löhr and both 'vons' were easy; the other two tried to persuade "Hitler" to fight on. Seyss-Inquart was especially worrisome, and Hogan could see the worry in Carter's eyes. Seyss-Inquart had been quite closely associated with Hitler. But Carter kept his tone authoritative, and after several long minutes the _Reichskommissar_ agreed to leave Holland.

Carter wiped his sweaty forehead. "We're really stopping this war."

"Step by step," Hogan replied. "More steps to..."

The walkie-talkie crackled with three clicks.

"Company," Hogan said.


	31. Taking Captives

Karl went outside, expecting to meet Martin Bormann. The man was shuffling about fifty meters from the front steps, along with his two bodyguards. One of the guards had both arms raised; Bormann and the other had only one arm up. All three were also bleeding from head wounds. LeBeau, holding a Luger in his right hand, was behind them.

Bormann saw Karl and said exactly what Hogan had expected.

"Hitler's time is over," Karl replied. "Your driver?"

" _Tot verdammt nochmal_ ," Bormann snarled. "Now tell this kid to put away his... "

Karl raised his own gun and aimed it at Bormann's chest.

 _"Du verdammter Verräter!"_ Bormann screamed.

"No, _you're_ the fucking traitor. You and your boss, dead boss that is..."

"There will be reckoning!"

"Indeed. Now move. And not a peep from any of you."

Inside the Berghof, everyone could hear "Hitler" yell: "Schörner, you _will_ honor the cease-fire and you _will_ surrender on demand. Any other action is not acceptable."

Ferdinand Schörner, commander of Army Group South Ukraine (though hardly any of the Ukraine remained in his area), was a particularly brutal hothead. In the old souls' first life, his star had risen in the early spring of 1945. Hitler promoted him to field marshal in April and later named him Commander-In-Chief of the German Army. Schörner had encouraged his men to keep fighting _after_ the official surrender on May 8.

At last night's rehearsal Karl had impressed on Carter the need to be extra firm with Schörner. This seemed to be paying off, although there was a chance that Schörner would disobey again.

When Schörner rang off, Karl patted Carter's shoulder. "Let Hitler rest now. It's time for _us_ to evacuate _."_

"London would agree," Hogan said. "I just spoke to them. They want us in Switzerland."

"Bern would work for me," Karl replied.

They needed an extra vehicle for their captives - and found a working (but smelly!) truck at Bormann's pig farm. On the way out, they saw pieces of tire near skid marks which went off the road.

"Good German _Buna,"_ Karl said. Bormann's wrecked car lay among trees about twenty meters downslope.

"Lucky there wasn't a fire," Hogan said. "Carter, stop here a sec - on the road. We don't want any of that dry grass touching a hot manifold."

In another minute Hogan verified that the man in the wreck was dead. He climbed back up. At roadside he grasped a clump of grass as Klink had done at Stalag 13 yesterday morning. Like before, the grass crumbled.

Hogan shook his head. Had such hot dry weather happened in his first time, he would have informed London knowing that Air Marshal Sir Arthur Tedder, of the Tedder Carpet, would send more than a thousand bombers to immolate a city.

He re-entered the car. "We're damn lucky. Let's run with it ... but not too fast!"


	32. Fat Hermann, Shut Up

The old souls' party travelled through the former Austria, reaching Innsbruck within three hours. By that time, one of Bormann's bodyguards was slurring his words. Karl had him admitted to University Hospital.

Radio broadcasts were still repeating Carter's voice. Everyone believed that their _Führer_ was at last bringing peace. Innsbruck had yet to recover from two big air raids in December '43. A sharp raid last week had destroyed the marshalling yards.

The westward drive that afternoon wound through a cultivated valley between two Alpine mountain ranges. The scenery, Hogan thought, would induce anyone who didn't know better to wonder why Hitler would want to conquer far beyond Austria.

Just as the party entered Feldkirch, a man's voice interrupted the regular newscast. "The German wireless broadcasts serious, important news for the German people." His voice echoed on public loudspeakers in the town. Three drum rolls followed. "It is reported from Der Führer's headquarters that our Führer, Adolf Hitler, passed away in his headquarters at Berchtesgaden while campaigning for peace and order throughout Europe. In 1941 Der Führer appointed _Reichsmarschall_ Göring his successor. The _Reichsmarschall_ now speaks to the German people."

Göring's voice echoed: "German women and German men, and all who fight for Germany by land, sea, and air! Adolf Hitler has died after eleven years of glorious struggle as ruler of Germany and her territorial acquisitions. I, Hermann Göring, am your new Führer and as such I shall continue on the path to prosperity and peace that Adolf Hitler built. Our enemies have disrupted that path but Adolf Hitler, just before he died, called a cease-fire with the goal of repairing that path.

Before this happens, those nations at war against us must understand that their soldiers cannot be allowed to tread on the good earth of Germany. I shall meet their representatives and make that point abundantly clear to them. They must send their soldiers back home. Greater Germany must be allowed to collect her dues!"

"Lardmouth," Hogan said.

The truck carrying the captives flashed its lights. Hogan told Carter to stop the car.

LeBeau jumped out of the truck and ran to Hogan. "Bormann's in very bad shape."

Hogan and Karl accompanied LeBeau to the rear of the truck. Bormann had vomited blood, and his sweat-sheened face was very pale apart from bluish shadows under his eyes. Hogan, who in his first life had raised a son destined for medical practice, climbed on the truck and felt Bormann's pulse.

"Shock," Hogan said, "probably from internal injury. The sooner they put seat belts in cars, the better."

"He needs hospital care at once," Karl said.

"Fine care is available in Switzerland," Marya said.

"There's no time. He needs immediate treatment here in Feldkirch."

"Karl's right," Hogan said. "The hospital's just a few blocks ahead."

As they dropped Bormann off, Göring announced that border posts on German frontiers were to be manned again.

Marya glared at Karl and Hogan. The latter was convinced that she would not be calling him 'darling' again any time soon.


	33. Night Muse

Hogan looked through the open window of his quarters in the US Embassy as a clock chimed 0100 June 21. Bern, like all European cities, was dark. Not a sign was lit; not one streetlight was on. There were a few bits of faint light from the hotel district near the Aare River, but otherwise the city was under a black war blanket.

Rommel had surrendered Army Group B and von Hammerschlag had left Paris just before Göring's proclamation. Hogan's party crossed into Liechtenstein (in customs union with Switzerland) just before the German side was re-manned, and contacted the US Embassy at the border post.

Among Hogan's superiors there were decidedly mixed feelings about what he'd let happen. The surrender of a whole German army group was a huge bonus - the Allied side of the Normandy front was crowded with jubilant troops - but the evacuation of Paris happened with the French Forces of the Interior (FFI) not yet fully organized. As a result, there were clashes between Communist and Western-oriented resistance forces, and serious street fighting with the pro-Nazi _milice_. Other parts of France were not in much better shape. Göring had rescinded the occupied countries' withdrawl order; he'd also told von Hammerschlag to surround Paris and prepare to recapture it. Carter's cease-fire order was being upheld, but Göring was obviously stalling for time.

Hogan smelled manure on the breeze. Every farm reeked of "natural" fertilizer, as synthetic compounds were in extremely short supply (the Green Revolution was 24 years away from being named as such). The streets were silent, with no cruising cars as you would see in a post-war city. Even by day, kids could play on a street or animals could rest on a highway for hours at a time without having to make way for a car.

One of the few moving cars Hogan saw in Bern that afternoon had been a Chevrolet flying the Polish flag. A Chevy undoubtedly built in Poland from dies sent by GM in 1937. Poland had been striving to modernize in the late 1930s, only to be thoroughly wrecked by occupation and war. Maybe this time there would be no Warsaw Uprising, no scorched-earth retreats ... and many, many Poles saved. Farther west, the Dutch might stay fed.

Hogan closed the window and turned in. He fell asleep almost at once.

Someone shook his shoulder, and he opened his eyes to red sunlight. An orderly said, "Sir, breakfast is in ten minutes and then they want another debrief."

Hogan sat up. "Time doesn't wait."

A distant voice from the hall said, "Damn Krauts at it again."

"What's that about?" Hogan asked the orderly.

"They broke the cease-fire along the Russian Front."

 _Sounds like Bagration - a day early!_


	34. Sharpe Debrief

The morning debrief had a guest interviewer - Brigadier General Al Sharpe, who'd led a raid on northern Italy yesterday when his aircraft was badly damaged and forced to land in Switzerland. Sharpe looked as gruff as when he was at Stalag 13.

"Hogan, your attempt to turn off the war was gutsy, innovative, and totally naive. You got Hitler, but look who's back."

"I have to say, sir, Göring's very easy to underestimate right now." The man was a bloated, greedy addict but in the right environment he could regain his wit - as had happened during captivity and trial over Hogan's first time.

"Folks still underestimate _Ike_ , and that's a bad mistake specially if they're on the other side. Ike just up and said that unless the Krauts surrender on all fronts and in all occupied countries by midnight he'll resume combat and bombardments. Tomorrow, Germany will _burn."_

"That's what von Scheider and I hope to prevent."

Sharpe shook his head. "A few more good firestorms and the Krauts'll pack it in."

"It'd take many more raids and millions more killed to burn out Nazi fanaticism."

"What, you a Nazi yourself? Or a fag? What is it with you and Scheider? I tell you..."

Sharpe noticed Envoy Leland Harrison, who marched inside and motioned to Hogan.

"Colonel, we just got word from SHAEF. You and your men are to go back to Stalag 13."

"Just when I was starting to get comfortable here."


	35. The Dreaded Call

_Gruppenführer_ Johann Rattenhuber was officially in limbo but felt like he was on his way to hell. He had led Hitler's personal bodyguard for eleven years, only to be duped. He stood ramrod-straight and looked at the scene for perhaps the hundredth time. The stains of feces around the toilet and blood (along with bits of hair, bone and brain) on it had been cleaned, but a smell lingered.

Compulsions surged through Rattenhuber's mind: Run away and don't stop before crossing the Swiss border. Scrub hard in a shower. Get blind, stinking drunk.

This last was the easiest to fight. There was no point in drinking. He'd either sick it up or sweat it out. He thought back to yesterday evening when a forensic examiner had ruled out suicide. A small gun, the type a spy might carry, had been in Hitler's right hand but the powder burns on both hands were consistent with a defensive gesture rather than feeding himself.

" _Herr Gruppenführer_ ," an orderly said, " _Reichsleiter_ Bormann is on the phone."

Rattenhuber fought a cramping urge to sit. He followed the orderly and took the call.

" _Herr Reichsleiter_."

" _Gruppenführer_ Rattenhuber, Adolf Hitler died on your watch."

Rattenhuber stifled an urge to babble that the impostor fooled everybody. At best the always-hard Bormann would take that as an explanation, not an excuse.

" _Ja, Herr Reichsleiter._ "

"What concerns me more is that Göring is now in charge. The way he let the _Luftwaffe_ go to the dogs, I'm not sure that even his own plane is properly serviced."

Bormann's voice was curiously flat, almost weak. And he had yet to use vulgar words. When the angry Bormann cussed you out, you took quite a rip. When he didn't, your trouble could be worse. Two other quick thoughts crossed Rattenhuber's mind: Either the man he was talking to was an impostor, or Bormann was sick.

" _Herr Reichsleiter_ , where are you?"

"Feldkirch, in the hospital. I don't want Göring to fly here yet, lest his plane break down and crash on my bed. You have specialists, don't you, who can ensure that his plane is as airworthy as he deserves?"

Rattenhuber nodded, seeing a chance to salvage his career. " _Jawohl, Herr Reichsleiter_. I'll call them straight away."


	36. Welcome Back, Hogan

Hogan and his crew - Carter, Kinch, LeBeau and Marya (the latter two were getting along) - arrived at Stalag 13 shortly after noon. They entered through their favourite stump and found that Newkirk had been updated by London. Stalag 13 was not to be evacuated but would serve as a hiding place instead.

Thousands of people had left Germany's concentration camps when Carter pardoned them. Hours later, Göring rescinded the pardon and launched the largest fugitive hunt of modern times. Göring also sacked Gestapo chief Heinrich Müller and reinstated its first chief Rudolf Diels, effective immediately. That, Hogan hoped, would hamper the hunt.

42 fugitives were known to be in the Hammelburg area. Hiding them in Stalag 13 would not be simple ... and would require the cooperation of Klink's command. Hogan went straight to the _Kommandantur_.

Klink said, "Colonel Hogan. Why am I not surprised that you're back." He pulled out a handkerchief and mopped sweat from his forehead.

"I'm glad to see you're ready to receive extra guests. Those people the Gestapo are looking for, you're going to capture them first."

"Hogan, this is ... irregular." Klink blushed and a sheen reappeared above his eyes.

"Gruber will need to be briefed. He'll head a convoy and find the people. The cover story will be that an American missed roll call but he'll turn up in that other cooler - the water tower."

By 1430, Gruber's convoy was back. Hogan and Klink went to the compound, ready to greet the new arrivals.

Hogan smelled them before they stepped in view. Many of the men, women and children were emaciated and ill; more than a few showed evidence of physical injury. Hogan knew from his first time how horrible the KZ system was; even so, he wept.

Klink was in tears, too. " _Mein Gott_ ... we do not deserve to win, treating people like that." Suddenly his eyes widened and he covered his mouth.

A black Mercedes, Hochstetter's, slid near the ex-inmates and sprayed dust on them.


	37. Hot Air

Hochstetter leaped from the car and jabbed a finger at the bedraggled, coughing people. "These are the fugitives! As of now they are property of the Gestapo!"

Hogan said, "They're not going to come with you willingly, and you don't have enough men to guard them."

Hochstetter turned to Klink. _"Was tut dieser Mann hier!"_

Klink said, "Calm down, _Herr Sturmbannführer._ We found these people and we will guard them for you. I am always happy to cooperate with the Gestapo."

"You're a happy so-and-so, that is certain." Hochstetter turned to his three men. "Let's get these items tallied."

Everyone sweated under the hot hazy sun as Hochstetter's crew took personal information. Finally Hochstetter faced Klink again.

"If one prisoner escapes, your head will roll. _All_ heads will roll! And if I catch the man who imitated Hitler, I'll skin him alive!"

Carter, standing by _Barracke_ 2 about thirty feet away, covered his mouth as if to stifle a giggle.


	38. News from Lilli

Bern, Switzerland

Every part of the British Embassy that Karl had seen was hot and stuffy. The old days, he thought, when there were few air conditioners. The _good_ old days, with the ozone layer 40 years away from being punctured.

Here he was in the enemy's building, where he had been debriefed by the perpetually red-faced General Stockall over tea plus offers of drink and food (Karl had accepted the digestives). Everyone was polite. On combat fronts, truces were called and sometimes honoured - often enough, between Tommy and Jerry, for mutual respect to persist. When field hospitals changed hands, medical personnel of opposing sides continued to work together. Yet on those fronts countless people had maimed and killed each other ... and were continuing to do so with terrible intensity on the Russian Front.

Accept and work with the good side of human nature when you can, thought Karl.

The door opened and an orderly showed part of the good side in.

"Lilli," said Karl.

"Karl, my wildest dreams never included you working with Allied people." Flashing a smile, Lilli eyed the orderly. " _Theirs_ didn't, either."

"With time I learned to say, 'enough is too much'."

"They were quite unhappy about you letting Bormann and his bodyguard go, but they're not so angry now. Braun, Morell and that bodyguard you kept are impressed with your humane way and have been singing like linnets. Handing Trudi over was another good move."

"Yes, she calmed another woman who doesn't like me." For a second or two, Karl's ears felt hotter. "As for Bormann, he was in bad condition when we left him at Feldkirch hospital but if he recovers, he'll be a pain in Göring's rear."

"Maybe a deadly pain already."

"That would be a fast assassination."

"It is. Göring's plane exploded and crashed not an hour ago. No one survived."

For a few seconds Karl couldn't seem to move his tongue. Then he said, "I expect a number of generals to take control of Germany, including some old friends. I should join them - and persuade them to surrender by midnight."

"I'm tempted to declare that you're too crazy to take care of yourself but here you stand, alive and well."

"Fairly." Karl said. He touched his belly.

Lilli stared for another second, then she embraced Karl. He smelled the same perfume she had on his return from 1994.


	39. The Coming Storm

"Two Führers dead in as many days," Hogan said after turning off the radio. "I'd hate to be the one who sold Goerdeler his life insurance." Hogan's men nodded agreement. Carl Friedrich Goerdeler was Germany's new Chancellor.

The radio had brayed static, the kind caused by lightning. Hogan went to the main exit. On touching the knob he heard a snap, felt a sting. Outside, the air was dry and dusty - much unlike New Orleans - but the cirrocumulus rows to the north looked the same and graded to a solid cover as before. Low-pitched rumbles - not loud, but sense the power behind them - sounded from the darker side.

"You're not afraid of lightning, are you?" Again Marya had approached unheard.

"Not the bolt itself. I just don't want another ride before we're done."

"If I end up among some drunks again there will be change."

Hogan looked at Marya firmly. "No one's drunk in this hut. I think von Scheider's sober, too."

"He seems to have rearranged _something_ , I'll grant him that. Goerdeler may live longer this time."

"And the front seems to be holding so far."

Marya waved a dismissive hand. "At best it'll be large-scale Seelowe Heights. We can be held back only so long."

Thunder rumbled again, louder. A hot dry gust almost blew Hogan's hat off. Trees outside the gate bowed, sounding like paper being crumpled.

Hogan smelled old cigarettes and knew that Smoggy was nearby. The man stepped outside and grimaced upward, showing his stained teeth.

"We're not gonna get any rain from this," he said. Lightning flashed. "Just wildfires."

"So find a Dalmatian," Hogan said, forcing a grin.


	40. The Hot New Chancellor

The monkey was back in Karl's gut. It was making almost enough mischief to double him over or send him trotting. The sight of war-torn Berlin, even with the ongoing respite, set the monkey grasping and twisting.

 _Play as you want but stay inside,_ Karl told the monkey as his limousine parked in front of the _Reichskanzlei_ where Goerdeler was waiting _._ Inside, he asked for directions - Goerdeler was avoiding Hitler's study as if it still held his odor.

With Goerdeler was his new war minister Freidrich Olbricht - the man who'd drafted the current version of Operation Valkyrie in 1942. Olbricht, who wore eyeglasses, was in his mid-fifties and wearing his general's uniform. Goerdeler, in a business suit, was almost 60 but could pass for Olbricht's age. Each man had a sheen of perspiration. Karl realized that he was also hot, and thirsty. He gratefully accepted a glass of water from Goerdeler's pitcher.

"The war must end tonight, not later than midnight," Karl said. "Even if it means unconditional surrender."

"This will be impossible for soldiers on the Eastern Front to accept," Olbricht said.

Karl could see Olbricht's point - in his first time Nazi Germany had been crushed from east _and_ west. With the two fronts so close to each other or in contact, many thousands of soldiers had been able to reach the West and avoid Soviet captivity. That would not be possible now.

"We've got to accept it and submit. Unless we do, much of Germany will become ash and ruin this week. The Fatherland has to come first." _Deutschland über alles,_ Karl thought, wincing at the irony.

Goerdeler shook his head. "We have reports this afternoon of lightning-sparked wildfires across Bavaria. It's getting critical down there."

"So, a third front on our own land."

"Giving up millions of fine troops is not something that can happen on the spur of the moment," Olbricht said.

"I will go myself and accept Russian hospitality, if that will help." As Karl spoke, he felt the monkey rise in his throat - not quite high enough to spit out.

"Karl, don't be rash." But Olbricht's eyes - and Goerdeler's - hinted that Karl had just expressed a good idea.


	41. Dark Dawn

Hogan woke to pitch darkness and the smell of woodsmoke. Only the faintest light could be seen from the shuttered window. He looked at his radium-painted watch, which read 5:54. In June there should be daylight leaking, AM or PM.

He got dressed and left his room. Hunnicutt and Wilson were not in their bunks. Hogan guessed that they were working in the infirmary. He stepped outside.

The sky was a dim orange-brown, barely bright enough for color - including the Red Cross painted on the infirmary hut - to be discerned. The smell was worse. Hogan stepped inside.

Hunnicutt was attending a very gaunt man whose every breath rattled. A frail woman sat beside the cot, weeping. Wilson was listening to a boy who had a bad cough. Eight other rescued fugitives lay ill in the ward. Hunnicutt saw Hogan and shook his head. "So much starvation, and at least four cases of TB. We're not seeing any typhus."

"Not yet but they're priming for it." Over the first time, typhus had exploded among Germany's inmate populations in the spring of 1945. After liberation, thousands had witnessed the tragedy of refeeding syndrome. This time Hunnicutt had been the first American doctor to hear about it, courtesy of Hogan yesterday. Others would discover the syndrome among liberated prisoners in the Phillippines toward the end of 1944.

 _If only the war would stop_. Hogan and Marya had done what they could to that goal. Maybe Karl could do more - if he had the chance and didn't let his prejudice...

The door opened and Schultz stepped inside. "Colonel Hogan, there you are. The Kommandant..."

"Wants me to get lost." Hogan winked at Hunnicutt and Wilson. "I know, I know." He followed Schultz through the smoky darkness.

Klink was at his desk. His face was pale and his eyes were baggy. "Hogan, I have word of a wildfire less than ten kilometers from here. It may threaten Hammelburg and this camp. I want all able men, including yours, ready for firefight duty. The call could come at any time."


	42. Bright Midnight

By 8 AM Hogan and most of his men (except LeBeau, who was staying behind with Marya to help Hunnicutt and Wilson look after the sick) were working with Klink's staff to create firebreaks around the camp. It was hot smoky work and Hogan thought that if this didn't induce Smoggy to quit, nothing would.

Blowing embers began to be seen soon after 9:30. Men hurried into the woods to put out advance positions that the fire wanted to establish. Flames kept erupting in one place after another, and men would rush to put them out. Hogan was reminded of a 1945 entry from Goebbels' diary, describing the Russian Front: _We have to shuffle our units to the hot spots like a fire brigade in order to plug the holes as best we can, suffering severely in the process_. That was true. Men were coughing and red-eyed. Hogan's own throat felt increasingly raw.

The irony of fire, Hogan could see, was how _dark_ it was. Smoke completely obliterated the daylight. Hogan and the men around him toiled on and on, desperate to save their camp. There were occasional breaks and handouts of water, but the swallows had to be quick.

At some point the wind shifted and a patch of blue appeared. Hogan looked at his watch - after scrubbing the smoked-over crystal - and was shocked to see that it was after 7PM.

Klink conferred with a fireman and declared that Stalag 13 was in much less danger. Hammelburg had become the main worry. Most of the international crew trucked up and moved to the other zone.

Hogan and Klink met Chief Jung, who directed them to their assigned area. Jung also told of a report that Germany would formally surrender at midnight.

Otto Jung appeared out of the smoke. His eyes, however red and watery, marked Hogan at once. "You! You took my car! Impersonated a..."

The older Jung grabbed his arm and said, "Talk to him later. Work."

Otto glared at Hogan as the chief led him away. Klink said, "What's that about? Never mind, I know nothing."

Toil resumed. Even Klink went to work after embers holed his jacket and lit flames around his boots. The fire seemed as ferocious as before and everyone missed nightfall, but with the night came lighter wind and more humidity. The fire began to seem like less of a blitzing force.

Church bells tolled in the unseen Hammelburg. Hogan couldn't be sure if they were calling for more firefighters or praying for peace and rain - probably all.

Rain began to hiss on fire late in the evening - not a downpour, but better than nothing. Shortly before midnight, Chief Jung dismissed the crew. While expressing his thanks, he gazed firmly at Hogan.

Klink held a roll call - that was something he would never tire of, Hogan thought - and Schultz began to count the men.

" _Eins, zwei, drei, vier, fün..._ "

The streetlights of Hammelburg came on.

Schultz gaped at the sight. " _Der Krieg ist zu ende._ " He bobbed. " _Der Krieg ist zu ende!_ "

Hogan looked at the lights, awe-stricken. "Karl."

Klink said, "Karl who?"

"Never mind." _Long long story_.

Klink stared at Hogan. Bells continued to toll. A new bell sounded, much fainter than the others as if it was being struck by a single person.

"The synagogue," Schultz said in a barely audible whisper.

Jung turned on his car radio. Everyone heard Chancellor Carl Goerdeler confirm the surrender of Germany.

"Now I'm _really_ convinced," a weeping Hogan said, "the war is over."


	43. Meeting the Dropouts

Shortly before noon on the 23rd, Hogan took his gang to the Hofbrau for lunch. The place was crowded. Some of the younger men looked bitter, but most people seemed to be quietly grateful that Germany's war was over.

Hogan spotted three men who he'd met in his first life. Excusing himself, he went to their table.

"Professor Bauer, Dr. Riemann, Captain Steiner," Hogan said. "Wise decision ditching that uniform, Captain."

All three were startled. Steiner collected himself and said, "How do you know us?"

"I'll tell you another time. Right now..." He noticed that the three were gazing beyond him.

He turned - and faced Hochstetter.

"Colonel Hogan, I hope we can have a table to ourselves soon, just the two of us, so we can craft a history of this area over the war with an emphasis on how you participated."

"Expect a looong wait, and not just because of me."

Hochstetter said, "Suit yourself." He tipped his hat in a gesture which was half polite, half curt. Then he turned and marched away.

Hogan turned back to the trio. "You wouldn't have liked a ride with that guy, except in the trunk. Seriously, you're going to meet some top physicists who'll create the atom bomb. Tell them to build _one_. Test it over the most barren part of the Pacific, far from land. Then anyone with good common sense will insist that no more are built."

"Where did you study?" Riemann asked.

"College of Jolly Jokes, but what I'm telling you is no joke." The thought of innocent Japanese being killed and maimed by the hundreds of thousands "over again" filled Hogan with dread. Just as abhorrent was the prospect of American soil being blasted and polluted over a long series of tests. Another Cold War was probably unavoidable but Hogan resolved to do everything he could to keep it clean. "With multiple tests strontium would look worse than arsenic, especially strontium-90."

Riemann and Bauer widened their eyes even more. Bauer said, "Some college."

"Do all you can. The atom bomb does not belong among pyromaniacs, and there are many even on our side."

Steiner said, "Köln, Hamburg, Berlin to name a few ... there are millions who would agree."


	44. World Reaction

Back at Stalag 13 that evening, Hogan listened to a shortwave broadcast from New York. There were tales of jubilation from major cities - London and Paris, but the others were all American. Commentators boasted of how Western air power, American in particular, had bombed Hitler to submission. Listening to that channel, one would think that Uncle Sam and his flying machines had beaten the Krauts almost singlehandedly. Had Marya been in the room, Hogan thought, she would have destroyed the radio.

Americans seemed to believe that other Nazis assassinated Hitler, and Göring was killed either by _his_ Nazi rivals or by someone in Goerdeler's group. Some callers wanted harsh treatment, even sterilization, for Germans. Others were more forgiving.

The business of occupying Germany would be discussed at a conference in Wannsee starting on June 30 ( _The same house_? Hogan wondered). First-time occupation boundaries were established at Yalta in February 1945 and by late April Germany had been crushed. This time, the Reich had surrendered with most of Europe still in its possession. Uprisings in German-occupied areas were rapidly changing that situation. Violence against German soldiers and settlers was common, especially in eastern Europe. Civil war and ethnic cleansing not involving the Germans was happening in Greece and Yugoslavia.

The Russians had made a few penetrations during their cut-off _Bagration_ , but not enough to make the operation a one-day success. Western and German commentators alike were praising the fighting skill of the _Wehrmacht_ soldier (they were not mentioning the _Waffen-SS_ ).

In a way Sharpe was right, thought Hogan. Europe was still in chaos - with two or three Old Souls in the middle. Hogan and Marya were snug in the eye. Hogan clasped his hands. "Dear God, You should know that I'm thinking of Karl and will support him any way I can..."


	45. Aborted Departure

On the morning of the 24th, a team from SHAEF arrived at Stalag 13, took the Germans into custody (assuring Hogan that all would be treated as POWs) and began to debrief the Heroes. LeBeau and Marya told their stories that afternoon. The Heroes enjoyed LeBeau's last Stalag 13 meal soon after the next sunrise.

The reassembled Peugeot was polished and looked ready. Carter was still grimy from having worked on the car. Everyone gathered around as LeBeau and Marya said their goodbyes.

Marya had a final, softly spoken message for Hogan. "Russia may have lost face, but wait and watch." With that she winked, then patted LeBeau's shoulder. He started the car.

Hogan heard a rattle as LeBeau drove to the gate. "Carter, are you sure the car has been properly put together?"

"Sir, if I did anything wrong I ... I hope God strikes me dead, then brings me back as a baby in a dirty diaper."

Hogan stared, wide-eyed.

As the car was about to go around a curve, everyone heard a metallic _skunk_. The car stopped. A sour LeBeau and amused-looking Marya stepped out.

Hogan barked, "Carter, with your luck you'll wear an _adult_ diaper!"


	46. Nuremberg Visit

December 12, 1944

Palace of Justice prison complex, Nuremberg

Visitors' area

"My lawyer says he can get the charges dismissed or at least reduced, and even if he can't ... I've seen the difference in this city," Karl said.

"So have I," Hogan replied. Nuremberg was in much better shape than in his first tour. The same could be said for Germany and Europe. Eleven months' savage warfare following D-Day had been prevented this time. The Nazis had been overthrown just before Germany surrendered, and the Western Allies were keeping Goerdeler's government in power.

The "Carthaginian peace" which the Allies had imposed most harshly during the first two postwar years was less harsh this time. Germans thought they were under strict rations - in particular, they grumbled about shortages of butter, coffee and sugar - but their nutrition was better.

"One more thing," Hogan went on, "this morning I talked to Jack Cole. He's willing to be a character witness."

"A black testifying for a Kraut. That'll bring color."

"Goebbels could use more competition." Joseph Goebbels, all icy wit, had been the standout personality so far. He was Göring's replacement in this timeline, Hogan knew. Hogan's warnings about suicide had also saved Heinrich Himmler, who was projecting himself as a mild and unmemorable character. His colorless testimony had already prompted Hannah Arendt to coin her "banality of evil" phrase which, in the Old Souls' first time, she first published in 1963.

"What about Marya?"

"She married LeBeau and they're running a bistro in Paris. 'La Table de' ... you can guess."

"I'm sure it's killer cuisine."


	47. Reunion in Paris

Late December 1944 across Europe was even colder than it had been the first time, and many areas including Paris lay under their deepest Christmas Eve snow cover on record. But the Old Continent was not at war.

Hogan arrived at _La Table de Marya_ shortly after 3 PM and was greeted by a sweaty Marya whose apron did not hide her baby bump. She led him inside and paused at the kitchen to bark Russian at the two female cooks.

"Ex-soldiers who prefer pots and pans to hammer and sickle," Marya told Hogan.

"Where's Louis?"

"In bed sleeping off the grippe. Let's go in here where we can talk." She pushed open the door to a storeroom.

Hogan said, "When we parted you expressed confidence about Russia's future."

"So many more alive this time. Far fewer dead troops to leave a vacuum for the _Mafiya_ to fill."

"That makes sense." Beneath the fearsome-superpower facade, Russia had been riddled with crime and corruption. While Johnny seemed to be losing his ability to read around 1960, Ivan had fretted over _his_ inability to get things done economically or properly. Progress on war-shattered infrastructure was much slower than in the West. This time, Russia was crowded with skillful people. More than a few were resisting the bully tactics of organized crime.

"I hear that von Scheider is refusing to testify against his fellow generals. He's risking his life."

"He expects clemency like before. He's German first, but not so first this time. If he hadn't reconsidered his prejudice against Russia there might be _two_ Axis powers still fighting _."_ With Germany out early, Japan's warlords were finding their situation increasingly untenable. Hogan saw hope that Japan would surrender months before the A-bomb was ready.

"Very interesting conversation," said a hoarse voice. Louis LeBeau was standing in the doorway. "The walls have ears, you know."

THE END

 _Disclaimer: Characters in this story were fictitious. This writer's goal was to entertain all readers while neither producing a monetary gain nor attempting to take characters created from 1965 to 1971 from their present and rightful owner, CBS Home Entertainment._


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